Days In The Sun (BATB 2017)
by 3431jess
Summary: Tears stung his eyes, gushing with emotion and filled with gratitude when he thought about how much Belle had given him. It was only then he realized, true love isn't Romeo and Juliet who died together, but Beauty and her Beast who grew old together. (One shot collection)
1. Living Your Dream

A/N: Exploration on Adam x Belle early relationship. Imagine they were courting right after his transformation.

[BellexAdam, T, Angst/Romance]

* * *

LIVING YOUR DREAM

"Belle… you came…"

As soon as the sentence left the Beast's lips, another bullet took a bite on his skin, impaled his flesh and ripped through his organs. The gun's shout split the air, roaring like thunderclap against the silence of the night.

The fierceness of the momentum pushed the Beast's injured body and hurled him towards the balcony of his chamber in the West Wing.

Belle quickly rushed to his side, cradling her listless figure in her arm. He was battered beyond words, his form covered with bruise and cuts, and a trail of fresh blood trickled down his back. His face contorted in agony as she propped his head with her hand.

 _Beast… No…!_ Her mind screamed, desperately calling for him. But the words stalled on her throat, and tears burnt her eyes.

She saw his eyes cracked open heavily, revealing their dying azure hue. Her mood darkened, her chest tightened as her heart sank to the floor witnessing death knocking on his door. That moment, all the well rehearsed phrase she wanted to say died prematurely on her lips.

Belle remembered her Papa told her what love was. It was a passionate, overpowering emotion; something that made your heart flutter and your spirits soar every time you saw or spoke to the person you'd fallen in love with. Love was supposed to feel like a breathtaking adventure: exhilarating, endlessly magical. But what she felt right now was nothing like the love she had expected.

The Beast relished what he perceived as his last moment on earth. He observed Belle's fathomless eyes staring passionately at his feature, feeling the delicate digit of her fingers running through his fur and her slender arms that gently entwined his figure.

"Belle… you - you came back." A small, faint satisfied smile beamed on his almost frozen lips.

"Of course I came back," she replied, suppressing the feeling of despair from staining her voice. "I couldn't let them…-" she trailed off, lurching forward and burying her face into his chest in deep remorse. "Oh, this is all my fault. If only I'd gotten here sooner….-! This wouldn't...-"

"Belle…."

His voice stalled her panic-induced rant. Belle lifted up her tearful countenance.

The beast's soft, hopeful eyes glimmered as he was silently studying her: her defiant brown eyes embellished with curling eyelashes, stared at him arrestingly. The exquisite contour of her chin, her soft, thin lips, and her glossy hair glinted like silk threads, framing her beautiful face.

This was the Belle, the girl that changed his life, filled his days with simple happiness, with her kind smile and unrestrained boldness. She was the woman who had tamed his fiery temper and turned him into a gentle pacifist. She had breathed life into his egotistical heart and taught him to be loved and to love in return. Part of him regretting that he wouldn't be able to spend endless hours reading books with her anymore, watching her curious eyes gleamed with interest, listening to her expressive voice as she read him her favorite Shakespeare line or simply hearing her infectious laughter. Another part of him was glad this chapter of his life was over. Belle could return to her life, perhaps marrying the man who truly deserved her. A man who was equally intelligent, sharing the same passion for books and treasuring the limitless knowledge they carried. A man who understood her wildest dream and could quench her thirst for adventure. He didn't know whether such man existed, but he knew it wasn't him.

They remained silent for a while, but their eyes speak volumes of affection towards each other, replacing the words they couldn't utter.

"I'm afraid it's my turn...to say goodbye." His voice ebbed into a soft, faint whisper in between his clipping breath, while his trembling finger clasped weakly against hers, letting the warmth from her fingertips penetrate and console his straining soul.

Blinking passed the tears that threatened to fall, Belle caressed his cheek and stared at him sorrowfully. "Don't talk like that! You'll be all right. We're together now; everything's going to be fine, you'll see." Her voice was beautiful, courageous, heart broken angel.

Belle had to bite her lips, contradicting herself. Just to think that she had to learn how to act, to move on, to fill the day without him by her side, crushed her heart to pieces. She was so used to his dry joke, his deep husky voice, and the warm touch of his paws. Belle took a few calming breath, mitigating the ongoing furor in her chest from surfacing into a display sorrow on her face.

"At least...," he said in earnest. With the last vestiges of his strength, he reached his powerless arms to touch her cheek and brush her tears."I got to see you...one last time."

And pulling his last laboring breath from his tortured body, his spirit lulled peacefully into its eternal slumber. His bright blue eyes were now dull, staring soullessly towards the heaven. There was no more passion in them, they were frozen. Forever. Unable to give her the answer to the words that she had been waited for so long to say.

"No! No! Please! Please!" she begged, her countenance spiraled with frustration tampered with pure sorrow.

"Please don't leave me...-!" was the fragment of sentence she could say before succumbing and weeping relentlessly.

"I love you….."

There was no language. No words could describe her unbearable sadness.

The world was not a kind place for humans. It was even less kind for a beast who had given his heart to one.

* * *

Belle's eyes jolted open. She found herself on her bed. Her breaths came in a short fearful gasp, and her tears were streaming freely down her eyes. A tangle of sweaty sheets around her legs, a frenzied pile of pillows on the floor from where she thrashed in her sleep. Her hands were clutching the corner of the blanket tightly while Adam's arm lazily draped over her waist. The book she read last night still sprawling uncaringly on the floor.

Shaking her head to herself through the terrifying events of the fading dreamscape, Belle sighed in relief… it was only a fragment of distant past. A dream.

The room was still dark, illuminated only by the fading light of the solitary candlestick as the night wore on, deep and quiet.

Following the curve of that strong arms that still wrapped protectively around her waist, Belle's eyes accidentally fell to its owner - the man she shared her bed with. No, he wasn't supposed to be here, but right now, Belle was thankful for his presence. Her eyes silently feasted on his indescribable charm. With his gold, wavy hair spread on his pillow, his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted in sleep, he was irresistibly charming. Belle felt an unwanted fervor creep into her heart, as she fought the urge to push a stray hair back from his handsome face. There was a brief lapse in time as she watched Adam's peaceful features as he slept, staring at him indulgently.

Even though there were times when she struggled to accept the man laid next to her was, in essence, the beast who unexpectedly had stolen her heart, it appeared her body craved more of his masculinity and enjoyed the spell of his human's touch.

She must have wide awake for a long time. Behind her closed lids, Belle could hear the bird serenading in a vague distance, welcoming the arrival of morning. Subsequently, the prince beside her began to stir, opening his eyes to reveal his brilliant, bright blue hue, the same eyes she had fell in love with. She smiled at the sight, feeling her heart wrapped in warmth.

"Morning, my _Prince_."

"Morning my….-" then there was a brief pause when Adam registered her puffy red eyes, bedraggled hair, and trails of dry tears cascaded down her face. She didn't look refreshed at all from the conclusion of her rest, as though sleep had offered nothing but desolation and anxiety.

His brows drew together in worry, "Belle…? Did you… did you just…-"

 _Cry?_ He wanted to say, but his thought was interrupted when he realized the unfamiliar surrounding. _Wait…_

He straightened himself up, sweeping his confused gaze towards the content of the room, surveying the neatly arrayed furniture, glittering jewelry trinkets and various paraphernalia that clearly wasn't belong to a man.

Behind the density of the furniture, he could see the gold bed canopy weaved with intricate embroidery of pink and blue flower, the silky, gossamer drape tinted with a delicate note of femininity. The curtain and wallpaper, all spiraling with more quaint floral chinoiserie, were scaling from the floor towards the ceiling, perfectly marrying the timeless elegance with modern beauty. There was even a wooden mannequin standing mutely wearing her ball gown on the corner of the room. Everything in the room had been decorated tastefully to fit an image of a…. _princess_.

Then it dawned on him; he had been sleeping in Belle's room, in the East Wing, the entire night. What was he doing there? The goosebumps formed in his wake on the thought.

Gasping as he pulled himself away from Belle, creating an illusion of personal space. His face flaring in embarrassment, as though Belle could see whatever sinful thing that he did to her last night was written all over him.

"Did I? Uh - I mean we..-?" His hands absently performed a quick autopsy on his body. Thankfully he was still appropriately dressed in a royal outfit: his pants were still intact, braces secured and shirt buttoned. Despite the large water stain on his lapels (did he drool?) and his silk slack was creased to the point of making him looked like candy in a bright blue wrapper, he was certain his outfit had not left his body the entire night.

"No, I think you just accidentally fell asleep here while we were reading books to each other," Belle replied.

"Oh… those must be a fascinating read, then," he said with a pinch of harmless sarcasm.

Belle laughed, sweet and lustrous. "Is that a joke?"

Adam feigned a dry scoff. "Maybe," he deadpanned before a peal of laughter burst out of them.

After their giggling fit had subsided, Adam went back to ask. "But, why did you cry? Someone make you sad?" His hand instinctively wiped the crusted tears around her eyes. "Is it... _me_? Did I do something wrong?"

But the action that supposed to console her, instead, inflicting more pain as she his words echoed in her head.

 _Belle…. you came back._

 _At least...I got to see you, one last time._

That rough, thick voice, heavily accented with affection, and that azure eyes gleamed and filled with melancholy as he spelled his dying words.

A familiar sadness surged like a wave when she recounted her nightmare, strangling tightly around her chest.

"No, it's just…- " Belle swallowed thickly as choking sobs shook her lips. "Adam, do you ever had a nightmare, so terrifying that it felt real?"

"Yes…yes, I do."

In the past, while he was a beast, his nightmare had been his own reflection, standing in a room with the silent portrait of a boy with her parents, or, the thought of him spending the rest of his life alone after the last petals fell and his faithful servants had turned into antiques. He would be confined in loneliness and despair in the tower, without hope and nowhere he could escape from the world's harsh reality…. _forever_.

But that was in the past.

Right now, Adam reflected that he was very lucky ever to become a beast.

Without his superficial transformation, he would end up with a girl with no real affection, who was just enticed by his affluence, ensnared by his boundless prosperity, status, beguiled by his devilishly handsome look and tempted by the prospect of having plenty of meaningless, expensive gifts.

And talking about his self-centered, selfish and flashy old self - Adam would have never laid his sight on a peasant like Belle, a daughter of an artist.

It was then, in his beastly form, he could learn the value of humility and benevolence. And while he was a beast, he had learned that Belle was a woman of exceptional character to be able to see his heart beyond the ugly horns and fangs. She was a woman who could appreciate and understand him as a person despite his outward appearance.

Now that they'd met - the thought of living his lonely, solitary life - with his repulsive, scary countenance as a beast, didn't scare him anymore.

As for Belle, she hardly felt genuinely scared over anything - not even when she saw the Beast for the first time. In the beginning, she was startled by his appearance, but she had never been fearful of him. But as her initial hatred transformed into affection, Belle was gravely aware that the prospect of _anything_ or _anyone_ hurting the Beast was what frightened her the most. The vivid depiction of the Beast being massacred and the villagers paraded his head around the town had haunted her in the form of recurrent nightmare.

"I am...I am just afraid of losing you."

Her cracking voice alarmed Adam, breaking his contemplative musing. Belle looked so genuinely anguished that it tugged painfully at Adam's melancholic heart. He hated the idea that he had been the cause of all those insufferable feelings. "Belle, I am here. I am not going anywhere," he retorted gently, gathering the perturbed maiden into his arms.

"I love you, Belle."

Instinctively, those words spilled from the depth of his heart, expressing the deepest sentiment he was dying to share.

It wasn't the first time Adam said those words, but he was sure it was the first time she heard him said them.

They'd fallen from his lips before, while he was a beast, but in hushed whispers that spilled lightly on her hazel locks as she dozed against his strong shoulder in the library, leaning against his furry, toned arms, a half read Shakespeare sonnets sprawled and forgotten before them.

They'd fallen between the warm of their breaths and thundering heartbeats as she smiles across the dining table in between the romantic rhetoric on her favorite book - about a prince in disguise.

They'd fallen offhandedly when she stretched her hands to lead him across the dance floor in her magnificent golden dress. When she glanced away just long enough, and the music was loud enough that that earnest confession was safely carried away with the sentimental dynamic of its notes.

But now, there was no sleepy whisper, no compelling music, and no hesitation.

With the fullness of his voice, he let out his feeling bled on his words.

"I love you, Belle," he repeated.

Her eyes widened as scarlet hue blossomed on her cheek. Her lips quivered, and beads of tears were balancing on the corner of her eyes. But the bitterness had disappeared from her face, only left its sweetness behind. Adam felt his heart swell in his chest, and his adoration to the subject of his affection expanded together with it.

"You don't have to dream about losing me, you can dream about sharing the rest of your life with me," he appealed as he pressed a long, lingering kiss on her lips.

Outside, the sound of bright laughter reverberated through the castle's corridors. High-pitched, sweet, untroubled and innocent.

Children's laughter.

Belle reflected briefly on her life now, imagining Adam sitting down by the fireplace, eyes flashing brightly as he read the books out loud to a bunch of children in his arms.

Their children.

Across the room, her papa would be fondly grafting the scene, translating the reality into the vivid color on his canvas, immortalizing the happier days of his life - a moment that would last forever.

There was something warm, moving, tight and suffocating as Belle imagined she was snuggling together with them.

"Well, I suppose not just the warm thought…" Belle heard him muttered, breaking her fantastical daze. "Unfortunately you would have to endure those boring, empty conversation with noblemen and dignitaries." A strained smile played on his lips. "Also sitting stiffly in a constricting, tight fitting shirt and dabbing your mouth with the tip of your serviette to satisfy Cogsworth's obsession in table etiquette and stopping Lumiere to lecture me on a proper royal conduct."

Adam cringed slightly reminiscing his extravagant lifestyle before the Enchantress took everything away from him. For a second, he couldn't believe he would ever admit it. Before becoming a beast, his life was embroiled with relentless dances, never-ending banquet, and ostentatious soiree. He remembered his manner-tutor, Monsieur Leroy, the scrawny man with a perfectly trimmed mustache, droning relentlessly about the importance of visual impression. People were judged by the way they dressed, talked and carry themselves - so he said. Enduring a straight, uncomfortable posture and pretending to enjoy a dull dialogue (which eventually became more of a monolog) was a small price to pay for the recognition, praise, and acknowledgment Adam had received. All these exhibitions of his riches and nobility were nothing but a theatrical display, and his life had been the stage.

Belle gave an apologetic smile at Adam's long-suffering sigh. It must have been quite a struggle for Adam to relearn some of those sophisticated, dressy mannerism as expected by a person with his status and upbringing, especially when it was merely for a show.

"We'll manage. I will learn those code of conducts together with you," she replied. Somehow, an untypical scandalous smile made its way on her face. "Just want to make sure to leave that wild, unmannered and untamed side of you… for _me_."

Adam smirked before releasing a low, predatory growl, earning him another gush of laughter.

"You are attractive as ever, my Prince." Belle shook her head and smiled amusedly at his antics.

"Could this beard be the factor?" Adam countered, matching her coquettish smile.

Neither of them said anything for a while. The silence grew between them, deep and heavy with meaning.

"I think I would never say this enough… " Adam was the first to say, his voice turned soft but serious. "But, no matter what will happen, to me, to you, to _us_...my promise stands - I love you, Belle."

She responded in kind, just a touch louder. "I love you too."

Adam girded her tired form closer, not wanting any distance between them. Not here, not now, not ever.

He mused over this day, and many other behind it. What had happened, what was now, and what was to be.

He gazed at the glimpse of his heroine next to him, he smiled as the string of nostalgia settled back in his face.

When he saw her, he fell in love. She smiled because she knew.

Both of them may have nightmares…. but mostly… they had been living their dreams.


	2. Silence

A/N: Another exploration of Belle x Adam relationship. Suggestive theme and generous Shakespeare's quotes! And please note, this series of one shot is not in sequential order.

[BellexAdam,T, Romance/Humor]

SILENCE

First time Belle get to know Adam she thought he would be one quiet, private and introverted man. Who wouldn't? Considering how long has he been living under the curse, trapped in his tower in lonesome solitude only surrounded by books, dust, and spider webs.

However, it wasn't because there was no one to talk to.

In his enchanted castle, as the Beast, he had a throng of bubbly servants that were willingly struck some conversation with him - ok, perhaps a lot of the topics may be meaningless or uninteresting, but still - Belle thought, some companions, however boring, could be better than none. Besides, the Beast no longer had to entertain dignitaries, hosting fanciful soiree, reviewing the household budget and calculating how much tax he had to raise - he literally had days, months and years to kill.

But yet the Beast never utilized those ticking second to talk to anyone; thus, Belle concluded that Adam was a quiet and reserved person by choice. However, Belle didn't count in the fact who Adam was before the curse of the Enchantress transformed his appearance and changed his lifestyle.

Adam was once a handsome prince, a social butterfly that hosted the most extravagant dance party. He was intimately known with his flashy appearance and impeccable finery. He was once used to be an outspoken, extrovert Prince, who won't give a second thought of recalling three or four princesses in his arms, filling his evening indulging in exorbitant amount of food and wine while proudly exposing every inch of his wasteful life in public.

Belle thought that the 'Adam' before the Beast was gone.

She was right about many things, Adam was no longer the vain, arrogant and selfish prince that cared about nothing but himself. But _something_ from his past life seemed to a little more difficult to shake off - and Belle had found this out in the most surprising way.

Among the walls of her room and behind her generously thick bedroom door, Adam seemed to be a different creature entirely. He suddenly became daring, demonstrative and openly talkative - and it wasn't just words, it was noise, grunt, snort, moan, as though he had a personal vendetta against silence.

Even now, as he hummed (or was it growled?) at the back of his throat, above her, low and content, his toned arms were resting on the sofa as he pressed his muscular length against her slender body. Belle had accustomed to silence. In her modest cottage, her Papa's music box was the only sound she often heard while quietly reading her book or formulating her invention.

Perhaps Adam was trying to make up for those silent moments in his life? Who knows.

Belle remembered the first time they made love, not long after she moved into the castle, how she panicked for a fleeting moment, trying to remind him that this was the library - despite the fact the door was locked, they were supposed to be quiet! It's the library after all!

He apologized (rather profusely) after, but soon made more breathless noise as he scaled her body with his expert kisses. Belle could only smirk teasingly and replied."Well, at least I don't have to worry whether or not I did a good job. I am surprised Lumiere has not come with a salacious gossip or makes a scandalous remark when he serves us breakfast."

Adam flushed red from head to toe, but quickly regained his stone-faced composure and broke into the most unexpected poetic endearment. "Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry. Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie."

"What?" Belle's eyes widened before breaking into a giggling fit. "Are you try to seduce me with Shakespeare?"

"Uhm… Maybe?" Adam narrowed his eyes suggestively. "My point is, even your favorite writer make noise to entice his lover when they were… you' know…" he gestured vaguely between them.

The mixture of Adam's feigned coolness and awkward fidget making Belle's smile grew a fraction wider. "Adam, it's _words…_ not _noise_ ," she pointed out. Adam grunted, realizing Belle had outwitted him, but he wasn't going to capitulate yet.

"How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night. Like softest music to attending ears!" Adam stubbornly replied. " _Sound…_ see? It could be anything! Moan, grunt…" he grumbled incoherently under his breath before asking in a more tentative tone. "Sorry, I don't mean to patronize. It's not like I am an expert on this ...rather intimate subject."

"Really? I thought you did great." The words just gushed out of her offhandedly.

"Ugh...Thank… thank you," Adam mumbled and blushed again, trying not to meet Belle's arresting eyes."You...you too. I guess."

Belle could only shake her head, smiling warmly at him, and then leaning up to kiss his neck. "I thought a prince like you should stand straight, elegant, slow to speak and poised. Isn't that what your tutor said about respectable people?"

Adam rolled his eyes."I will enquire to his wife whether he remained poised and quiet during their… _Ouch!_ What's that for?" He winced as Belle lightly smacked him on his chest.

"Don't you dare ask Monsieur Leroy about that!" she chastised him. Belle could imagine the aghast, scandalized expression of that poor guy if his student brought up the subject pertaining to his private life.

"But honestly…" Adam began again, his voice turned edgy. "Do you mind the noise while we…-"

Belle thought he looked so adorable when flustered, she extended her arms and entwined around his neck affectionately. "The noise, the talk, the kiss. You are wonderful Adam. Honest."

"You really think so?" he asked, almost sounded dumb.

"I am no princess remember? You can be noisy with me," Belle replied. Then her tone turned hush and low. "Besides, I like untamed…. _wild_ prince."

"You are indeed a funny girl, Belle," Adam countered, frowning slightly."You made me sound like I am a badass renegade."

"Or a beast…." Belle finished for him, and without preamble, she surged forward, curving her body around him and pulling him into a long, lingering kiss that was enough to lash out the animal out of him.

Adam looked down at Belle who was breathless and warm when he pulled away."I am glad you are not a princess, Belle. Princesses are kind of boring anyway," he smirked with untypical lopsided-grin.

"Many people disagree with you, my Prince. I am a peasant girl after all. They think I am your mistake."

Adam scoffed distastefully. "Laughing at your own mistake can lengthen your life," he quoted deftly, his fingers running through Belle's brown tresses gently."Even Shakespeare knew that. See?"

Belle chuckled before coming up with another banter. "But laughing at your wife mistake can shorten your life."

"Did Shakespeare write that?" Adam's brows climbed to his hairline. Ever since he knew how much Belle loved that British poet, he had relentlessly revised his Shakespeare's verses and sonnets as though they were his bible. And he couldn't believe if he had missed _that_ one.

"No. His wife did."

Adam laughed, unrestrained and free. For a moment Belle was spellbound, as though seeing a stolen moment flashed before her eyes. Something unknown, but warm and pleasant bubbled from her chest. There she was, merely a few months ago, came into the castle in the midst of all the sorrow, wondering how could so much hope and love endured. Even until today, the power of love was still a mystery to her. How with its power the curse was broken, relationship restored and tear-filled moments burst into laughter.

Love was such a simple four letter word, yet it could mean most complicated things and defined in thousands different way.

There was no amount of time would encompass what was needed for a relationship as tortured, and love as battered but at the end, unyielding, as theirs had been, but Belle wouldn't have it any other way.

"Love you, Adam," she went and pressed her lips again, before taking a quick breath just to say. "...and don't hold your voice back."

* * *

Days, months and years rolled by. Here, at present, Belle found herself in the library, fulfilled warmth of afterglow, figure pliant in her true love's embrace.

Even though they had done this many times over, their breaths gushed, galloped and died in the most unconventional, unthinkable space in the castle (to Lumiere's surprise when he found them in such a state). Even though now Belle could name every unevenness on his skin as well as she quoted Romeo and Juliet, map the sloping curve and indentation of his muscle as well as she knew the books in the library - she still treasured each and every time as if it were the first.

She rose up to meet him, fell. She whispered in his ears fondly between heavy, lustful breaths, as she arched her back, cleaved it tightly against his while he called her name and kissed her hungrily.

He was desirous and wild, yet gentle and mannered; he could be sophisticated and cunning yet simple and innocent. He was poised without being arrogant, entertaining without being annoying, endearing without being fake, a great listener without being mute, full of wisdom without being patronizing.

"You are amazing," she heard him saying while grazing his lips over hers as though seeking permission.

Despite years had eaten some of his muscular statures, withered his skin, and given him wrinkle beneath his eyes, the radiance of his bright blue eyes remained the same, loving and earnest. His caring fingers curled around her, warm and comforting, wrapping tight around her heart. Oh… how much Belle loved this man with every fiber of her being.

"You're more," she replied. "Especially with the noise you made."

He laughed, loud and unfettered…. and Belle felt like she fell in love with him all over again.

Then, Adam looked down to meet the eyes of the woman that had sacrificed her figure, her passion and _herself_ \- in return to bear his children, submitting herself in faithful humility and bountiful devotion as a wife and mother. Tears stung his eyes, gushing with emotion and filled with gratitude when he thought about how much Belle had given him.

It was only then he realized, true love isn't Romeo and Juliet who died together, but Beauty and her Beast who grew old together.


	3. Forgiveness (PART1): The Servants

A/N: Taking place immediately after the transformation.

[BellexAdam, and the servants, T, Angst/Romance]

* * *

FORGIVENESS: PART 1

Adam was the man that use to have it all: handsome looks, great wealth, and fame. He was once the master of his fate and proclaimed proudly for not needing anyone in his life. But then, he learned the truth, a little too late…

Perhaps he had to learn things the hard way. He was cursed to be a hideous creature - a beast, for undermining the value of one's appearance. He was forced into loneliness, slipping into the depth of depression, wasting himself in his lonely tower - Until that day came, that he had learned to love another…. and earned her love in return.

* * *

Lumiere honestly thought it would be his last moment on earth. He was the last to watch the agonizing moment when one by one, his friends and lover turned into antiques until just the two of them left.

"Lumiere, I...I can't speak," Cogsworth stuttered. Lumiere's heart sank, knowing that the end was near.

 _This is it..._

"It's alright Cogsworth," Lumiere sighed in resignation, his voice grinding helplessly around the corner of his words.

"It's an honor...to...serve...with you," were his friend's last words before suspending in his position permanently. Lumiere could only breathe dejectedly, witnessing in mute dismay as his friend's eyes were now addressing him with a soulless gaze.

"The honor is mine, _mon amie_ ," he reciprocated, twirling fluently as his last curtsy.

But in a fleeting moment, something extraordinary was brewing its magic inside the Castle's West Wing. A simple yet unexpected declaration of love between two very unlikely individual - had reversed the spell and broke the curse… just right after the last petal fell.

"Ugh…!"

Lumiere heard a familiar raspy gasp. In front of him, the mantel clock had returned to his human incarnation, twitching his asymmetrical mustache awkwardly. Cogsworth was dressed in an intricately embroidered coat, with exquisite Roman numeral buttons adorned his chest, and matching breeches complementing his impressive look… just like how Lumiere remembered him.

" _Sacrebleu_ Cogsworth, we made it! We beat the clock!" The former candelabra stretched his arms to embrace his colleague."The curse is broken!"

"Indeed, the victory is ours!" Cogsworth reciprocated triumphantly, welcoming Lumiere's hug, just on the right moment when a feminine gasp intervened their sweet reunion.

"Plumette!" Lumiere rushed to her side as her arms surfaced from a cloud of feathers.

"Oh, mon chéri!" Plumette welcomed her lover's tender arms, briefly indulging the sensation of his flesh and skin. Lumiere stared at her for a moment, admiring his lover that poised elegantly in the outlandishly pristine white frock.

"I miss you..." he breathed longingly.

"I miss you more."

They gazed into each other's eyes affectionately before sealing their joyous reunion with one passionate, lingering kiss.

One by one, the rest of the servants returned to their human form, they congratulated and exchange relieved hugs, it was a sight to behold. Madame Garderobe and Maestro Cadenza with their romance of operatic proportions - animatedly melted their lips into a kiss. Monsieur Jean who had his memory restored, girded both his missing wife and son as they shed tears of joy.

Meanwhile, Cogsworth's thrilling moment of transformation seemed to end prematurely when he heard a voice he dreaded beckoning. "Oh, Henry!" said she, before fettering him with her deceptively skinny hands. "I've been so lonely….!" In contrast to his wife over-enthusiastic outburst, Cogsworth froze, fidgeting and squirming nervously in the arms of his over-enthusiastic wife, frantically wishing to return into a clock.

But when the prince made his presence known, the courtyard fell into brief silence. He was dressed in a simple white shirt, plain breech, entering the commotion barefooted. Besides him, a beautiful maiden was affectionately clasping her hands in his.

"My Prince….!" Lumiere was the first to notice, darting past the rest to welcome his Master.

"Hi... my old friend," the Prince matched his rhapsodic tone and enveloped his servant in a tight embrace. Chip, who immediately recognized the brunette girl as the castle's permanent guest, blustered and dashed exuberantly. "Mademoiselle Belle!"

After the crowds retreated and the exhilaration subsided, Lumiere, as usual was the proactive thinker, initiated. "Now that the villager remembered everything about the castle, about us…. Don't you think, we need to do _something_? Perhaps to celebrate?"

"That's an excellent question to which I don't have a good answer," Cogsworth commented, desperately expelling his wife's hand from meddling with his slightly slanted mustache.

"Perhaps we should gather some token among us and donate it towards a... -"

"A playground!" Chip suggested excitedly.

"A bigger school, so more girls could learn how to read. I am sure Mademoiselle Belle would love that," offered Plumette.

"...with enough space for a piano," appended Mastro Cadenza in his peculiar Italian accent.

"A Motel! I am sure Cogsworth would find that handy," teased Lumiere, while Cogsworth glared at him, articulating something incoherent under his breath. "Actually, what I meant to suggest is for us to hold a party," Lumiere added in more serious tone.

While everyone was chattering and having their moment of rejoicing, Adam couldn't help but think these bright smiles and peals of laughter were only masking an undercurrent of hurt - not that anyone deliberately slandering him for his past mistakes. He reminisced treating his servants as though they were slaves and burdening his helpless subject with a hefty tax to fund his atrocious lifestyle. He was once a boastful, proud, hedonistic prince. The golden trimmings of every room in this castle, the massive chandeliers, the insanely intricate-patterned carpet were enough proof of that, and Adam wasn't proud of it - not anymore.

"Are you okay?" the soft, gentle voice of Belle woke the Prince from his reverie. She noted his remorse-stricken face and held his hands tenderly in hers. "What is it, that bothering you?"

"Nothing… I was just. You know…. _thinking_."

"Oh...okay." Belle smiled understandingly. "Take your time," she said soothingly.

"Belle," Adam began, his eyes transfixed to all his servants that still idly chatting, laughing and teasing each other, as though nothing had happened. "How could I ever make amends for these mistakes?" he huffed dejectedly. He recalled how his servants had been objectified in the starkest and horrific manner as a result of his misdeeds, yet they remained ever loyal. Honestly, to this second Adam had no idea why every single one of his servants didn't despise nor resent him for it.

"The only mistake in life is the lesson not learned," Belle offered her counsel. "And it's not how we make mistakes that define us, but how we correct them."

Her short but wise advice seemed to strum the right chords, and a warm smile overtook his face before curiously whispering, "...is that a famous quotation by someone?"

"Maybe?" Belle paid him a little teasing smirk. By then Adam knew she had made use his line to taunt him. He snorted in feigned annoyance.

After a few minutes of thoughts, Adam announced. "Lumiere, please send the invitations for every single citizen in the province. I am holding a banquet."

"Everyone, Sire?" Lumiere inquired, he couldn't hide the incredulity from entering his voice.

"Yes, everyone… no men or women should be excluded," the Prince paused, clearing his throat and bouncing his eyes towards his faithful servants. "I would express my intention to repay my debt, to return the taxes that once I charged, and to communicate my plan to open the Palace Library for public use."

"That's a splendid idea, Master!" Lumiere gushed, leaping ecstatically. "What do we waiting for? We have a banquet to prepare!" and the rest of the troop instantaneously began to disperse.

"Wait! Everyone…! I have something else to say." The servants stunned at their spot, exchanging a confused gaze with each other.

"I know… I have not been a…- not a very good Master for all of you. I've been a ruthless, spoiled brat, with no sense of humanity and charity. I employed my power to abuse the weak, to steal from the poor, and caused all of you to be condemned for years for serving a heartless master like me."

The Prince's fervent confession positively moved everyone's heart.

"The Enchantress didn't make any mistake, Sire. We truly have our fair share in what becoming of you," Mrs. Potts inserted, as usual being extremely maternal and generous.

"Yes, my Prince. We've all had done some reckless things in our youth we weren't proud of. It is unfair to begrudge to you for the same mistake I am sure I was given the same situation," Lumiere consoled, his sympathetic claim was soon accompanied by a consensual nod from the rest.

Adam looked at his servants one by one disbelievingly, before coming to confess, "I have failed you all so badly as a friend...and so much more. I hope... - I hope there is somewhere….some space in your heart to forgive me."

There were a coherent gasp, consecutive suppressed sobs and a lot of discreetly wiping hands. Even Belle felt her own eyes warm with moisture, witnessing a rare yet rhapsodic exchange among them.

"My Prince, mistake are proof that we are trying," responded the former candelabra.

"He meant to say 'yes,' Sire," the straightforward Cogsworth piped in bluntly. It was his usual habit to rephrase Lumiere's dressy, overcomplicated explanation. Adam could only smile mutely and welcomed Lumiere and Cogsworth again in his arms.

Cutting his glance to his side, Adam caught the sight of Belle's mesmerizing eyes beaming up at him. And the pure happiness and unconcealed affection that radiated from her face made Adam feel more like a big, damn hero than anything he'd ever done. He wanted to hug and kiss her and never let her go, to shout at the sky and express his overwhelming gratitude, but he settled for squeezing her hand and whispered an earnest "I love you."

* * *

While the servants busy restoring order into the chaotic castle and Belle was having a rest in her allocated room in the East Wing, Adam took the time to take in what had happened a few hours ago.

He laid on the soft, luxurious surface of his goose down bed in the West Wing, nothing how different the cold, silky thread felt grazing against his skin instead of fur and how strange his fingers could freely trace the needlework on its surface without any danger of ruining it.

He swept his gaze around the room and found himself unable to wrap his head around how different the place was. The room was bathed in glorious light, no longer holding the glimpse of its former sinister aura. The West Wing was cleaned from broken furniture, debris, and dust and transformed magically to its former glory. Perhaps this was a firm reminder that he had turned a new leaf, a new beginning from his previously arrogant self. Getting ahead of himself, Adam began to ponder of what needed to be addressed next.

Yes, an apology. Adam had plenty of that and further explaining to do, especially to Belle's father.

With a mission under his belt, before the sun sank further beneath the horizon, Adam offered to take Belle home, knowing her father would get increasingly anxious should there be no news about his daughter after the epic raid and subsequent vicious duel with the hunter.

 _to be continue..._


	4. Forgiveness (PART2): Belle

A/N: Continuation from the event in the previous chapter, Adam taking Belle home.

[BellexAdam, LeFou, and the servants, T, Angst/Romance]

* * *

FORGIVENESS: PART 2

That late afternoon, the sun cast its radiant spell across the horizon and behind the hills, giving the landscape in a magnificent golden glow.

"Your horse ready, Your Grace," said Lumiere, presenting a beautiful black stallion with impeccably trimmed mane.

"Oh, he is beautiful," Adam praised unconsciously. How could his servant find a horse (let alone one fitting to be a royal stallion) within an hour was still a mystery to Adam. But Lumiere was always known for his outstanding wit and smoothness; surely he had persuaded someone in the village to let him have the horse in return of generous monetary prize.

"It's a pleasure to serve," the debonair servant bowed in reverence.

"Does he...have a name?" Adam asked, admiring the horse and inspecting its massive toned legs and perfect, flattering posture.

"Ugh," Lumiere was suddenly caught in a panic. He didn't want to say the horse was actually Gaston's - that preening and narcissistic creep who often received some hammy laughs out of being vain. But how could he explain this to his Master, who had literally become the hunting target of that villainous, boorish brute?

"Magnifique," Lumiere blurted the first suitable name he could come up with and said it with a lot of conviction.

"Nice name, I like it." Adam smiled contentedly, patting the horse who seemed to have the same idea as him. Lumiere quietly exhaled in relief.

Earlier in the day, Belle had generously lent Philippe to Mrs. Potts and Chip to return home with Monsieur Jean, thinking that the young boy would be too tired to walk to Villeneuve, while Adam had consented for Mrs. Potts to take a few days off to spend with her family.

Thus, Adam rode his horse, in front of him, Belle sat mutely. Both of them were occupied with their own thoughts. Adam was a little apprehensive about meeting the villagers again, wondering how they would receive him. But, his attention was interrupted when his eyes absently glanced at his hands that were clasping the reins. He couldn't ignore the strange lightness of his own body that suddenly didn't eat up that much space or god forbid Belle would fall from the saddle.

"Thank you for coming back for me," Adam was the first to say, breaking the comfortable silence.

"It wasn't like that," Belle said without looking, but a note of definite remorse reflected in her voice. "They were trying to capture my father, calling him insane and delusional for saying that I was held captive by a beast. In my lapse moment of panic, I use the mirror you gave me...which at the end, led them back….to you."

Adam wrestled the desire to gasp or at least to shoot a sharp _'What?_!' at her direction. But his accusative conscience was silenced when he heard the cracking of her voice. He knew Belle had never intended to betray or hurt him, let alone to have him killed.

"Gaston pushed me inside the wagon too, thankfully, my father managed to pick the lock," Belle explicated. "But, I was nearly a moment too late," she ended ruefully, recollecting the Beast's soulless gaze and how his head went limp in her arms.

"It's not your fault, it was a difficult position to be in," Adam consoled, dragging a relieved sigh that that horrible moment had become a history, tucked away far in the depth of their bitter-sweet memory. "Even then if I died, I would die happy," he leaned forwards and whispered soothingly,"...knowing that you cared for me. That is enough."

Her heart jumped unwillingly in her chest hearing his endearment, but Belle pretended to remain collected. "I sort of already guessed that you might be a prince who was cursed," Belle admitted.

"Oh? How did you come to that? Did the servants..-"

"No, they didn't breathe a word. Well, Cogsworth nearly, but he never came to it," Belle expounded. "One of my favorite book - Prince in Disguise, a story about a wealthy prince who masqueraded himself as a beggar in a venture to find the girl who genuinely loved him for who he was."

"So, you've already speculated huh?" he quipped jokingly.

"I even grow suspicious that you are the mastermind of this curse," Belle inserted.

Adam's lips twitched as though to snarl."What?Me?" he withdrew, his tone sounding slightly wounded at her assumption.

"Yes. And I conjecture that the Rose held a magical power that enslaved your servants, that's why you are exceedingly protective of it," Belle confessed. "But I lost faith in my theory when I saw you…" she paused, swallowing audibly."...dying in my arms." Her voice quivered. Despite the happy outcome, Belle still struggled to think of the consequences her tardiness without feeling her eyes warmed with tears.

Adam instinctively halted the horse, sensing this was the right time to tell Belle about everything.

"Well, now you knew - that I was no prince charming. I used to be that ruthless, hedonistic and heartless tyrant everyone detested. Until one night, I foolishly rejected to an old woman who pleaded for a shelter in return of a rose as her token of gratitude," he continued huskily. "I let myself misled by her haggard appearance, by the time I realized who she truly was, it was too late." He shuddered at the memory. "She cursed me, turning me into a monster that I was inside…"

There was a prolonged silence before Adam had the courage to begin again. "I remembered I pleaded relentlessly for her mercy - but, she told me that I must earn my forgiveness…and that the curse would be broken once I learn to love someone and win her love in return."

Belle's chest tightened, her hands absently covered her mouth to conceal her horrified gasp. She was a nearly a second too late, and should she didn't make it on time, the servants would turn into antiques and the Beast would be…- _Oh god!_

Adam squeezed her hands lightly as he resumed his narration."As days rolled into years, I was consumed by despair, depression, and loneliness. Wondering how my life would have been...if I'd been wiser a little sooner. I lost all hope, knowing that I stood almost no chance to redeem my own transgression - even if I have learned my lesson. For who can ever learn….to love a beast?" His voice faltered, and Belle could see he struggled to hold back his tears.

Adam sighed, smiling pensively when Belle's gentle fingers brushed the beads of tears forming in the corner of his eyes, "...and then you came," he ended, reaching for her hands and kissed the knuckles as they sat side by side.

"But then I leave," Belle said, berating herself. However, should she didn't return to the village, her father perhaps would've ended in the asylum - she was stuck between two tough choices.

Adam swallowed the growing knot that seemed to stubbornly lodged itself in his throat, and reminisce the insufferable sorrow the night he set her free. He still remembered vividly standing up on that rampart, casting his desolate sight towards the horizon, watching Belle in her voluminous golden gown, rode away into the depth of the woods knowing that she would never return. It felt like the cruelest twist of the fate had played on him, to let him hoisting his hope high and crushed it down to the deepest trench, to have won Belle's esteem, only to lose her a few fleeting moment later.

"But you came back," he replied her claim.

A broad smile made its way to her face. "Of course I did," she agreed, slowly closing the gap and caught his lips with hers.

"In this rate, we would never reach your house," Adam commented as they lips parted, only to be answered by Belle rapturous laugh and he couldn't help but to smile.

All the pleasant conversation made the minutes rolled by, without realizing, they've arrived at their destination. Thankfully, the village appeared to be deserted, saved it for a few men patrolling around the vicinity. Perhaps everyone was exhausted from the ordeal (of fighting against inanimate household objects), and remembering some of their loved ones that had been forgotten since the curse enshrouded their mind. There was a lot to take in.

Adam helped Belle dismount from his horse and walked along the cobblestone of Villeneuve, enjoying the quiet night.

"This is where I used to spend my time alone, reading while waiting for my laundry," Belle pointed out, directing Adam's attention to the circular-shaped structure.

"Alone?"

"I might be alone, but I never felt lonely with my books." Her smirk grew an inch wider.

"I am actually quite surprised to learn a beautiful girl like you still remain single," Adam stated his observation.

"I'm very good at turning down marriage proposals," Belle replied deftly.

"Leaving just an obnoxiously persistent one who got exactly what he deserved," Adam taunted back with his usual teasing smirk. It was just a harmless joke, but he didn't quite expect to see the smile melted off of Belle's face like snow before a forge.

"Ugh, you just reminded me of one despicable candidate just by saying that," Belle muttered. Gaston might be a local hero, the man of every girl's dream, a celebrated soldier, but for Belle, he was a mortal embodiment of everything she loathed. Behind that sweet, sympathetic smile, Gaston's only conquest was to win her father's seal of approval to give her hand in marriage and then showcasing her as his trophy wife. And once he realized her father would never relent, Gaston was cruel enough to leave him unconscious in the woods to be devoured by hungry wolves.

Adam knew who Belle was talking about. Up on that tower, Gaston had derided him for hoping Belle would ever requite his love, calling him foolish for hoping Belle would ever come back. The hunter's mocking words was loaded with disdain, enough for Adam to infer that his involvement with Belle was the cause of his blind jealousy. But Adam wasn't going to let that hateful brute ruined his moments with Belle. No, not now.

"Well, I have benefitted greatly against other suitors because I am an avid reader," Adam said smugly. "Not only that, give me a month and I can beguile you with Romeo and Juliet…. _in Greek_."

The crease formed on Belle's forehead. "You think I chose you because you are a pedantic bookworm?" she retorted, looking scandalized over the meaning insinuated by his statement.

"Sorry," Adam mumbled dryly, looking a little disappointed Belle couldn't appreciate his attempt to humor her. His expression was very much like an upset toddler, sulking because his parents forbade him from eating too many sweets. She elbowed him lightly, shaking her head observing his strange antics. Adam still pretended to be agitated and crossed his arms in front of his chest, but suddenly a question begged his mind.

"Belle, can I ask you something?" he prompted, openly staring at her as she tucked strands of stray hair behind her ears, deeply bewitched by her unconscious gracefulness. "When exactly did you know that you _like_ me?"

"I fell for you, literally," Belle replied truthfully. "When you throw that snowball right on my face...and I _fell_."

"Literally _fell_ ," he echoed, shaking his heads as he chuckled, remembering how could he - with decades of etiquette being burned into his brain - did not spare a thought of striking a lady square in the face with a snowball and laughed profusely afterward.

"I was a hideous beast, how could you love me?" he pressed.

"I've fallen in love with the Beast for his mind, for his heart, not his looks, and his outward appearance," Belle replied, her eyes radiated kindness without pretense, and Adam swore he was captivated all over again.

"How about you, what made you fall for me?" Belle countered.

Truthfully, It wasn't a difficult question - everyone with eyes knew and acknowledged that Belle was beautiful. However, as a prince, Adam had been exposed to many astonishingly good looking women with voluptuous curves and irresistible smile - a flawless personification of what a French rose should look like. But Belle wasn't that sort of traditional beauty that was superficial and fashionable. She had a distinctive appearance, a spark of intelligence, curiosity, and boldness emanated from her eyes which were strangely attractive.

"I fall for you because you are the only woman knew about my secret fondness for the Guinevere and Lancelot stories," Adam smirked as he responded.

"That doesn't make sense," Belle asserted, frowning. Somehow, her thoughtful expression made her looked even more enticing. This was Belle, the woman who had ensnared his heart with her insanely charming wit and fierce intelligence.

"Men don't just advertise their weaknesses to everyone, only to selected few," Adam argued.

"And you know my weaknesses with Romeo and Juliet," Belle appended, still unable to connect the logic Adam was extrapolating.

"Ghastly book, I know," Adam faked a disgusted grunt and did his signature eye-rolling into the other dimension. Belle just shook her head and exhaled loudly instead of counter-attacking the Prince's disparaging gesture.

"Oh yes, you haven't told me your name!" she launched into her inquiry without preamble.

"My name?"

"Wouldn't you think I address you my _'beast'_ in front of the crowd would sound a bit…?"

"...like a polite sarcasm. People may even think you have an unhealthy fetish to -... _Oufff_!" Adam winced when Belle slapped his upper arms.

Belle huffed, "Seriously, can't you just..-"

"Louis-Philippe Adam Dieudonné," he interjected. "Mouthful isn't it? And I am never proud of my name." He made a disgruntled noise.

"You don't?" Belle looked bewildered at Adam's deep resentment over his name. "I thought your name sounded grand… sophisticated even, fitting for a prince."

"Go up to Paris, to Versailles, mention Louis-Philippe Adam Dieudonné - Prince of Conde in a crowd, and all you would hear are raucous, unpleasant stories about the kind man I used to be," he said, feeding his sight on the uneven cobble street of Villeneuve.

"Really?" Belle ventured, entirely unconvinced. Adam nodded weakly.

"Isn't it Dieudonné means God-given?"

"Yes, I am apparently the long-awaited heir, the son of my father's old age," Adam answered dryly. Belle went muted, perfectly registering the topic was a sensitive matter that had to be handled cautiously.

Making for her lack of vocality, Adam went on. "Louis-Philippe was my father's name, and… I _don't_ want to be associated with him. So, I am stuck with Adam."

" _Adam_ is quite unusual, I like it," Belle persisted, injecting much-needed optimism.

"I much rather had a more generic, common name and not unforgettable one that would imprint a lasting impression as soon as I commit either something good or bad," Adam reasoned.

"Adam means 'man.' Like it is written, the first man was a mortal: guilty, and imperfect. But then he repented from his sin, was forgiven, redeemed and given a second chance - a chance that transformed him into a kind and selfless man, deep down here," she pressed her hand more firmly against his heart, "I had never wanted you to be perfect, _Adam_. I wanted to you be real."

"I thought you didn't learn Greek," he quipped.

"Hebrew," Belle corrected. "No, actually Pere Robert told me what Adam meant on one of his sermons. In my opinion, you are quite extraordinary anyway. Just like your name," Belle complemented, guiding her to step under the shadows of towering structures to keep their exchange away from prying eyes.

"It's not extraordinary," Adam protested. "It's excessive...exaggerating almost. Your parents had the right idea. 'This child is beautiful, let's name her Belle.'"

Instantaneously, Belle halted her step to look at him. "Thank you...for the compliment," she said, inexplicably became shy.

Adam dared himself to frame her face, and he kissed her, soft and perfect, letting passion and love be trapped between their lips, like a gap of unfilled words that were far too raw and embarrassing to be spoken, yet could not be denied. Both of their paws slipped unwittingly, their bodies entwined in a close embrace. Belle found herself absorbed completely into the kiss, and melted in his touch. Everything around her felt so distant, unrelated and surreal. She could only feel the thrilling taste of him on her tongue, tingling every fiber of her body, while taking immense pleasure on the generous proclamation of his love.

However, Belle abruptly pulled out, consciously aware that her intimate interactions with Adam could be the prime village gossip, especially now that they'd remembered he was the Prince!

"What happened?" Adam prompted, a little breathless.

"No, I was just..." Belle felt her blood rose to her cheek when she found a few passerby had stopped just to watch them, eyes gleamed with unrestrained interest.

"Shall we... move on?" Belle tugged Adam's hand as she rushed into a quieter aisle.

They walked along in silence until Belle signaled him to stop.

In front of him stood a quaint little cottage by a large open field. The cottage was aesthetically appealing, with equally charming flower bed, neatly lined vegetable patches and perfectly manicured lawn, but part of him couldn't help to feel this was so wrong that someone so beautiful, so bright, and adventurous as Belle lived in a place so utterly unimpressive.

"Here we are," Belle flicked her sight on him, smiling as she turned the key.

Adam smiled and bowed in an exaggerated fashion."After you, Mademoiselle," as he let Belle went in.

 _To be continued..._

* * *

The story of Adam's background in detail will be included in my other fic: A Deal with The Enchantress.

Thank you for the fave/follows/Kudos/Bookmark and reviews :-)


	5. Forgiveness (PART3): Maurice

A/N: Continuation from the event in the previous chapter, Adam taking Belle home.

[BellexAdam, Maurice, T, Angst/Romance]

* * *

FORGIVENESS: PART 3

"Papa! I'm home!" Belle's euphoric voice was immediately answered by enthusiastic footsteps, and a figure of a middle-aged man was approaching the door.

"Papa, I missed you!" Belle happily embraced Maurice who looked equally eager to check on his only daughter.

"Oh thank god you are fine, Belle! I've been worried!" he replied, eyes hastily scrutinizing his precious daughter and a sigh of relief escaped his lips knowing she was unharmed.

"And I've brought a guest." Belle sidestepped, letting Adam took the center stage of their modest living room.

"Well, do come in, Monsieur. I am Maurice Beaumont - Belle's Father, and you are…?" Maurice inquired as he pulled a chair for Adam to sit on, smiling warmly. For a lapse moment of grace, Adam only stunned by the door, unsure what to do or how to react.

It was Belle, who subtly informed him in insidious whispers. "Papa, his name is Adam. He was a prince before the curse turned him into the Beast."

"The -...the Beast…-?" Maurice's eyes widened as he frowned, thankfully he managed to maintain his voice in discreetly hushed tones. "You mean… the Beast was…-"

Belle nodded lightly, a smile broke on her face. Maurice turned his attention to Adam, studying the groggy young man who was still stunned by the door, didn't dare to move a muscle, and the creasing of Maurice's forehead immediately dissolved and transformed into an amused smile.

Adam's stomach churned unpleasantly in a nervous twist as Maurice's eyes seized him up from head to his toe, as though appraising scrupulously. Maurice offered him to sit once again before advising Belle that they needed a minute alone.

After a moment of suspending his breath, Adam spoke up. "Monsieur, I came here specifically to apologize," he expressed, trying to eliminate the trembling edge of his voice and relax on his seat. "I'm sorry for calling you a thief. I was unwise to judge you simply because of a stalk of rose," Adam said, addressing the floor and feeling ashamed of himself. Not only he felt an extreme guilt for his action, but also for allowing his preconceived notion clouded his judgment over Belle, and calling her a daughter of a thief. "And I apologize for imprisoning you, and called Belle a fool after she willingly took your place - such bold action should be commended, not rebuked. "

To his surprise, Maurice waved his hand dismissively and chuckled. "Don't worry about it; I already forgive you when Belle told me you let her go. Besides, the fault is not entirely yours. That rose was technically yours, it grew within your palace's ground, so indeed… I was trespassing and trying to take it without permission."

The artist took a moment to see a sheer astonishment surfaced in the Prince's countenance.

"I...I don't know what to say. H-how could you condone my blunder so qu..-?"

"You may wonder why I was so quick to make allowance for your behavior," Maurice smiled meaningfully. "When Belle told me how different you were once she get to know you, I know you weren't the Beast I met a few weeks before. You've changed. And you deserve a chance," Maurice retorted solemnly."I am a great believer of this philosophy: When you forgive, you in no way change the past - but you sure do change the future."

"Merci, Monsieur," were the only words Adam could utter. And there was another silence, and Adam's attention unwittingly fell to a portrait of a woman that bore an uncanny resemblance to Belle. She was a little older, her figure demurely wrapped in a red dress with fitted crinolines that enhanced her tight waist and low neckline which exposed her slender neck.

He flustered, realizing that Maurice had caught him gaping in unconcealed admiration at the painting. "Uh, pardon my prying eyes."

"I wouldn't blame you," Maurice chuckled, cutting his gaze to the picture the Prince had been caught staring openly. "She is beautiful. Now you know where Belle gets her good looks from. It's in her gene." Both of them laughed softly before Maurice sunk down in his seat, his idle hand leafing through his old sketchbook.

"I met her in Paris," Maurice began. He showed the Prince a few sketches of the same woman, twirling eloquently in her vermillion flamenco dress. "Who may have thought I would fall in love with a gypsy girl?" he smiled pensively. "We were worlds apart, in background, race, and character. Yet, we fit together so well; it was so hard to explain but so easy to see."

"But isn't that they called love? A bright stain on vision, blotting out reasons," Maurice went on, tracing his finger over the chin of the woman that seemed to have a captivating smile permanently tattooed on her face. A nostalgic smile broke on his face; it was so infectious that Adam unknowingly did the same. "Before I met her, I have never known how it was like to be able to look at someone, and smiled for no reason."

If Adam could have smiled any wider, he would have. He could relate to Maurice's experience perfectly. Learning about love perhaps was a horrendous gap in his expensive education, in which he only came to understand when he met Belle.

"That's how I know you love Belle as much."

"You...you d-do?"

Maurice unexpected statement caught Adam completely off-guard.

"You let her go. There are a lot of man who can tell my daughter they loved her, but very few could proof it's true," Maurice quipped. His eyes trailed back to the picture in his hands.

"I heard that you lost your mother when you are a child as well?"

"Indeed, Monsieur. I was thirteen when my Maman passed away."

"She would be very proud of you," Maurice offered cordially. "To see what kind of bold and selfless person you've become."

"That's terribly kind of you to compliment. I'm no brave person, Monsieur, in fact, quite the opposite."

"Boldness wasn't just a label for a soldier who marched to war." Maurice smiled amusedly, reminiscing how long Adam had held his breath and squirmed nervously before apologizing. "It took courage and bravery to admit your mistake and ask for forgiveness," he concluded and Maurice eyed the young prince carefully, noting his sharp features, his brilliant blue eyes, plain clothing - perhaps a little too plain for a nobility, and his unsure gaze. He smiled imagining how his late wife would react knowing Belle had found an excellent suitor. (Thank God she didn't end up with Gaston!)

"Even though it ached me to think what my wife had missed - this better to have loved and lost than having never to love at all."

Maurice's wisdom seemed to remind Adam of another mission he needed to accomplish tonight.

"Monsieur, I would like to discuss another matter with you," Adam admitted, unconsciously gazing towards the door of the kitchen as though worry that Belle suddenly barged in. "Firstly, I would like to apologize to the abruptness of my proposition. Initially, I planned to wait a few more weeks, to execute this in more dignified, gradual and organized way, but I don't feel that waiting the lapse of time would change my decision, therefore I would like to ask you."

"Proposition?" Maurice raised his brow, getting an inkling of where the conversation was heading seeing Adam restraining himself to fidget nervously.

Repressing the butterfly sensation in his stomach, Adam braved himself and drove his words with a lot of conviction."Yes, Monsieur. You know that I love your daughter with my life. It's no exaggeration that Belle is intelligent, insightful, agreeable and the most articulate woman that I have fortunately encounter, and she was a woman of a great character, to be able to see past through my repulsive appearance as a beast and patiently taught me how to love. We have our differences, but I have tremendously enjoyed her company, and I believe Belle feel the same way too. Therefore, if you think this would be appropriate and pleasing in your sight, I would like to ask your permission to court your daughter with the plan of future matrimony in mind."

Maurice blinked. If Belle was here, she probably going to tease her royal lover for talking to her father in a dressy language that made his request of courtship sounded like a proposal for business merger. Realizing this, a joyous smile split his face. "Well of course! I could see the blissfulness in her eyes as she spoke about you - she was contented to finally found someone who understood her better than anyone else. How could a father deny his only daughter from such happiness?"

If Adam was truthful, he was nearly leaped out from his seat and paid Maurice an earnest hug. But of course, he had only done so in his head, in reality, he remained subdued and poised and only allowing a faint smile and a modest 'Merci.'

"And one more thing Monsieur. This is no degree a degrading remark or disparaging statement of your state of living, but if you find the arrangement may suit you, I would like to extend my offer for you and Belle to live in the castle," Adam laid his proposal.

"That was very generous of you, Your Grace," Maurice said, sensing Adam was genuinely concerned about his welfare.

"Please, just Adam."

Maurice tried to think of something diplomatic to respond. "As I was saying, it was a deceptively lucrative offer, but, I am used to this kind of life for decades. It would be a struggle for me to see so much space and surrounded by immense luxury."

Adam considered Maurice's response, the man was right, wealth and luxury never equated happiness, and Maurice was obviously found peace and comfort in his quaint, little cottage. "Very well. I appreciate your directness and honesty," Adam replied. "It's late now; I better make my move."

"You are always welcomed here, _Adam_." Maurice's tone was warm, as warm as his hands that reached to Adam's shoulder and squeezed it gently. The old man stood up and called his daughter from her bedroom. Belle reappeared in her signature blue dress, smiling exuberantly at two most important men in her life. They walked Adam outside, and the Prince felt nervousness overwhelmed him all over again.

"I'll leave you two to say goodbye," the older man chuckled, before disappearing behind the door.

"Did you threaten my father?"

"Threaten?" Adam said with mocked offense, straightening his posture, "How dare you to accuse me of such slander?"

"He would never leave me alone with another man in the veranda," Belle quipped.

"That's because those men aren't me," Adam grinned. Belle rolled her eyes on Adam's witty comeback.

"Belle, I am sorry for calling your father a thief," Adam said, this time a lot more eloquent, thanks to his practice with Maurice.

"And I am sorry for berating your temper and angrily said: I would starve than to have a dinner with you," Belle replied.

Somehow those indignant words had become a bitter-sweet memory when Adam came to think about them. Adam smiled, gravitating towards her as he knelt and lifted her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles. His soft lips and warm hands grazing her skin simultaneously and eyes never left hers. " _Bonne nuit, mon Cheri_ ," he said in hushed tones.

He released her hand unwillingly and prepared to leave, but Belle caught his arms.

"Forever can spare a minute," she spelled her famous rhetoric before meeting her lips with his, soft and teasing, giving just enough to leave him wanting, and brushing teasingly just sufficient to drive him mad. And Adam couldn't imagine the simple happiness that she brought him.

Belle sighed dreamily as she watched him climbed on his horse, blowing her an imaginary kiss and disappearing behind the silhouette of the rugged structure of Villeneuve.

* * *

Notes: This bit of one-shot follows a headcanon that suggest Phoebus and Esmeralda (Hunchback of Notredame) were actually Belle's parents. Last part of this one-shot would be Adam talking to Le Fou, will be posted in a couple days time. Thank you for all of your generous faves, follows, reviews!


	6. Stay

A/N: Taking a break from previous chapter, a short snippet for the event right after the transformation kiss.

[BellexAdam, T, Hurt/Comfort/Romance]

* * *

STAY

As Adam turned around, he was greeted with a sight of Belle, his heroine. Her delicate face imprinted with creases of unmitigated confusion and disbelief, but soon dissolved into euphoric smile that traveled far into the depth of her eyes.

She took a step of faith, coming closer to, now, the embodiment of the horrific creature that she had claimed to love, standing now in his place - a man, handsome but unfamiliar.

While Belle looked into his blue, hunting eye - somehow, their intensity evoke the memory of the Beast's last evidence of his humanity. Her lips coiled into a tender smile. She recognized him: the familiar affection that painted in his eyes, the soothing timbre of his breaths, and that warm smile that lifted his lips. She studied his new body in the dim lighting, his obvious strength, and his dark-infested eyes.

 _The Beast now…. A man?_

Before she realized it, her inquisitive fingers were reaching toward his face, tracing the indentation of his jawline, brushing the smooth skin which had replaced his beastly mane, satisfying her blooming curiosity. In return, she let him caressed the modest curving of her cheek and raked his finger through her hair. Yes, this was _her_ beast, the only man who explored her emotionally and intellectually.

There were no words spoken, but their soul embraced each other before their lips met in a passionate surrender.

"Belle," he breathed, breaking her wandering mind from its fantastical flight as he ended the kiss unwillingly. His face reddened, blushing as a lovelorn teen would.

"You...you are alive!" she gushed.

Beads of joyful tears slipped from her eyes and Adam's heart swelled, invading his own ears in rhythmic pulses.

"And you are….- you are a man."

Belle's proclamation sounded much more reluctance and subdued than the first.

"Belle, you've broken the curse. You've saved me, you've saved everyone," Adam replied as an explanation.

Well, _almost_ everyone. Sadly, in every story, no matter how triumphant and joyous the ending might be, there would always be dark, agonizing moments laid underneath.

The sound of Belle's heart-splitting scream as she saw the bullet tore his flesh, the exclamation of Gaston's indignant snarl as he fueled the villager to pursue him and his own angry growl when that conceited hunter called him 'the Beast.'

The prince sighed, allowing the mix of exhilaration and melancholy to blend into his thoughts.

"I thought you'd left me forever," Belle whispered, as though became oblivious of the happy ending they just achieved. A confused and damaged expression hung over her eyes as the memory of the roaring bullets and their mortal consequences ripped her mind.

"No, I shall not. I am ain't Romeo," Adam quipped, his voice eased and a mischievous smirk growing in size. "Nor are you Juliet. Don't you think we much prefer to live happily every after than to die in sappy tragedy together?" His clever rebuttal immediately relieved her worry tampered eyes.

And there was silence stretched between them, long and full with contemplation.

"I shall take you home to your father later," she heard his statement breaking the silence as he led her with his hand. Belle's face furrowed into hundreds of indented lines, folding over itself in disbelief.

Did he want her to leave? Didn't he want her here, with him? Belle nearly snapped, but her burning, acidic accusation had never made it to her lips.

"It's not because I don't want you here, Belle," he explained, as though he had sneaked in to read and interrogate her mind. "I want you to stay." His voice was barely a whisper and Belle was struck with the genuine, longing stare from his eyes - the same stare that he cast the night after the dance when he told her she was free to go. "However, now I've understood," he added. "That love does not claim possession, but gives freedom."

With that, he closed the gap, tugging her on her waist and planting a chaste kiss on her brows. "...and I want you to return my love for you ... _freely_."

It was truthfully the Beast's selfless act of sacrifice that night which urged Belle to return for him… and eventually to confess her love.

He had given her wings to fly, shelter to come back...and reasons to stay.

He had given her freedom.

Because he loved her. Unconditionally.

"Let's go downstairs, I am sure the rest is waiting for us to meet us," he said, breaking Belle's musing.

His smile never faltered as his caring hand clasped around hers protectively.

That moment, Belle had willed in her heart and promised in her mind...

….that she had _willingly_ chosen to stay. Forever more.


	7. Forgiveness (PART4): Gaston

A/N: This takes place BEFORE the last celebration dance, and a good few hours after the transformation. As I imagine this, some palace's servant (perhaps one as assertive as Lumiere) had taken care to modestly cover Gaston's body. Special thanks to TrudiRose for the beta and valuable discussion and suggestion!

[Adam, LeFou, T, Hurt/Comfort/Angst]

* * *

FORGIVENESS: PART 4

LeFou couldn't quite believe what was happening.

He saw the ruin of the castle levitate and mend itself, transforming the crumbling chateau into its former glory. The permanent, frigid winter that had encapsulated the site seemed to dissolve into the warm, inviting air of summer. The villagers assembled around the castle courtyard were exclaiming in astonishment and joy as they reunited with their long-lost loved ones, celebrating that the curse had permanently been lifted and their memories restored. Amidst all the confusion, LeFou glimpsed Belle from afar entering the courtyard, wearing a smile which radiated happiness. One of the reason, perhaps, was the unfamiliar gentleman who held her hand and occasionally threw an affectionate glance at her.

 _Who is he? And where is the Beast?_ LeFou was utterly confused. And then one of the servants exclaimed "my prince!" as he rushed to embrace the gentleman. LeFou was stunned. But after a few long minutes of contemplation of what he had seen - the restored castle, the reunited villagers, the Beast being gone, and now this man being called the prince - he realized that the only sensible explanation was that mysterious gentleman was, in fact, the previous and true incarnation of the Beast. Deep down, LeFou was relieved that Gaston's hadn't managed to execute his despicable plan of killing that innocent creature, even more so now that he knew that the Beast had really been a prince in disguise.

The thought made him realize that he hadn't seen his friend come out of the castle. Where was he? Lefou was one of the first to climb the curving stairwell to the front door. He rushed inside only to bump into Agathe, the beggar who allegedly had rescued Maurice from turning into the wolves' dinner.

Instinctively, LeFou stepped back.

"Agathe…have you seen…Gaston?" he asked. The name tasted bitter on his mouth (despite the fact that he couldn't even spell it) and an insufferable pain stung his heart). He didn't even know why he still cared about that egotistic scoundrel after what he had done to Belle, to Maurice, to that beast/prince who had done nothing wrong…. and to _him_ , his best friend, who had stood faithfully defending him and his wrong deeds.

But now, it was over. Everyone knew who the true monster was.

Despite Gaston's blatant betrayal of their friendship, LeFou couldn't forsake his pledge of adhering to his childhood friend. They'd known each other since they were in diapers (if such things existed). They'd struggled through school together, gossiping about girls they fancied, marched to war together, and then moved back to Villeneuve at the same time.

"Don't worry, he has been taken care of. He is no longer a threat," Agathe replied vaguely, casting her eyes to the swirling corridor that led to the West Wing. "You'll eventually see him."

"Oh, okay," LeFou stuttered, futilely trying to digest what Agathe was insinuating.

He rushed outside, dismissing a few 'hellos' and 'good to see yous,' and dashed outside at blinding speed. The sound of the laughter and the warm touch of the sun contradicted LeFou's somber mood. He anxiously scanned the throngs of people and asked whether they had seen his friend, but he received no definite answer. Frantically, he tore through the length of the castle grounds, searching for his missing friend.

LeFou didn't keep track of how long had he been searching for a glimpse of his friend through the denseness of the unkempt castle ground. He felt like he had searched every inch of the courtyard and gardens and surrounding lands, but the place was immense, and he was alone. In his blind panic at not finding any trace of Gaston, he ran back into the castle. LeFou briefly asked Cogsworth's permission for access, but the rotund man was too busy dealing with his difficult wife and just replied him with a terse 'Go ahead!'

After checking every room, LeFou resolutely began to climb the tower, checking each accessible turret and loft, shouting his friend's name in desperate attempt to locate him. It must have been the longest marathon in his life. LeFou was positive his belly was two inches smaller after all the rigorous exercise, but despite his best attempts...still no Gaston.

A few hours later, his strength was wearing thin and his hope had run dry. He plopped down by the front staircase, leaning his head dejectedly on a pillar, his shoulders sagging. He was so tired and desolate that he failed to notice the sound of stern footfalls advertising someone's presence.

"Monsieur?" came the voice from above him. With the last vestige of his strength, LeFou lifted his head to meet sharp blue eyes observing him questioningly. LeFou was startled to realize that it was the newly-restored prince.

Prince Adam was casually dressed in a simple plain white shirt, a pair of breeches, and top quality leather shoes, suitable for any respectable man in the village - but for a man of his rank, Adam was scandalously underdressed.

"Your… Your Grace!" stammered LeFou, hastily leaping to his feet and bowing. "I was… I'm sorry, I don't mean to trespass, I was just…looking for someone," he sputtered to explain.

"Someone?" Adam repeated, curiosity piqued.

"Pardon me for not introducing myself. I'm LeFou. I was looking for my friend, Gaston."

 _Gaston!_

Adam's expression darkened. "You are his _friend_?" Despite his smothering fury, Adam managed to suppress the accusatory edge of his voice just enough not to intimidate Gaston's lackey, who already cowered under his glare.

"Well, yes…" the stocky guy replied with undue hesitation.

The few things that Adam knew about that boorish brute were not very pleasant. Firstly, the man had called him 'Beast' and shot him three times without even knowing who he was. If it weren't for the Enchantress' intervention, Adam would be dead right now at that man's hands. Second, as he had heard from Belle, the brute's vocal and persistent interest in seeking her esteem had brought her nothing but trouble. The local girls had disliked her for stealing his attention and all the young bachelors had mistaken her for being engaged. Despite her blatant rejection, Gaston had kept pestering Belle, insisting that they were made for each other and refusing to leave her alone.

It took Adam a few seconds to return back from his fantastical daze. "That's the man came to kill the Beast, right?" he asked, forcing his expression into an inscrutable mask. But his fists clenched and unclenched conspicuously.

"Y-yes Your Grace," the short man replied, clearly aware that the prince understandably had some negative reservations against his friend, to put it mildly. He inched away, bracing for the impact of his next statement. "Believe me, I am not here to defend him, Your Grace. When he tied Belle's father up and left him in the woods, I know that he-"

Adam no longer tried to hide his anger. "He did _what…-_?!" he snarled, fury in his raised voice. "Your friend barged into the castle and tried to kill me! Now you tell me he tried to kill Belle's father, too?"

Seeing LeFou shrink away nervously at his outburst, Adam took a deep breath and tried to get control of his emotions. "I'm sorry," he said apologetically, voice returned to emphatic softness. "I just got… a little carried away."

"It's okay. I understand," LeFou assured him. "Gaston used to do that, too."

Adam was startled and more than a little displeased to hear that he was acting like that man in any way at all.

"Your Grace," LeFou went on, nervously twisting the tip of his crimson bow."I know Gaston did wrong. He was blinded by jealousy when Belle rejected his advances and she favored you instead. He went on about wanting to kill the Beast, misleading the villagers into believing that the creature was dangerous and horrible. But-"

"There is no excuse for such a vile action!" Adam spat, but his voice wasn't as vicious as it could have been.

"It's not an excuse, Your Grace, it's an appeal," LeFou explained. The sadness in his voice doused Adam's anger instantaneously.

Sensing the prince was allowing him to speak, LeFou went on. "Gaston was my first friend. We knew each other since we were small. I know Gaston came across as arrogant, selfish, even narcissistic." LeFou chuckled humorlessly as his mind fell into nostalgia. "It's true, and I'm not defending that. He was manipulative and conceited, but normally he never meant any serious harm, and he was a fun guy to be with. Then we went to war together, and he was so brave - a real war hero." LeFou sighed. "But after we returned from the war, I noticed a change in him, as though he was missing something."

"Missing something?" echoed Adam, frowning. But he patiently listened as LeFou spoke.

"Yes. He thought perhaps winning the prettiest girl in the village would fill the emptiness in his heart, a proof that he was still the best at his game. Gaston has always been a persistent man when it comes to the things he wants. He poured his time and energy to woo Belle into his arms - only to realize she is as stubborn as he was." This time LeFou's voice became strained and small.

"But admitting defeat was never his thing. So instead of giving up, Gaston plotted to earn Maurice's favor so he would eventually approve his proposal to marry Belle. Unfortunately, the well-devised plan failed when Gaston lost his temper and ended up leaving Maurice unconscious in the woods to be eaten by...by those...wolves," LeFou stuttered, gulping nervously as he stole a glance towards Adam.

"I tried to persuade him not to do it, suggesting some….less brutal alternative. But…" He sighed. "He wouldn't listen. Thankfully for Maurice, someone rescued him and took him back to the tavern that night. Of course, he told everyone in the village that Gaston had attempted to murder him."

"And then what happened?" Adam became curious on the twist of the story.

"Then, in front of everyone, Gaston asked me to defend him, to say the allegation wasn't true. And I was stupid enough to side with him," finished LeFou, looking down at the floor in shame. He had been loyal to Gaston, but Gaston hadn't done the same, forsaking his old friend in the middle of the battle at the castle. He had cared only about being a hero - even at the cost of their friendship. "When I realized my mistake, it was all… too late."

Witnessing LeFou's lips trembling as he retold the story filled Adam with unexpected sympathy. Perhaps LeFou was too blinded by his fanboyish adoration to be able to discern that his _friend_ had cared for nothing but himself. Gaston only cared for his fame and glory. He had made use of their friendship to emotionally blackmail him, to hold LeFou as an emotional hostage, knowing that he would lie for his sake out of loyalty and naivety.

The thought itself was enough to flare Adam's anger. "He brought all of his misfortune on himself," he hissed.

But to Adam astonishment, instead of agreeing with him or bitterly rebuking his traitorous friend, LeFou requested something completely unexpected. Nonsensical even.

"If I may ask on his behalf… to forgive him. And perhaps, if you can tell me where he is before the authorities take over his custody. I want to…. I want to tell him a few words," LeFou said carefully, gauging Adam's reaction.

LeFou's words felt like a metaphorical punch to Adam's gut. LeFou didn't know that his friend was no longer among the living.

Adam eyed LeFou thoughtfully. Despite the man showing closeness and affection when talking of Gaston, Adam could see that LeFou was nothing like his manipulative friend. He wasn't conceited or selfish, in fact, quite the opposite. He was surprisingly thoughtful, humble, sincere, and forgiving.

Adam considered what LeFou had told him about Gaston. As much as he hated to admit it, truthfully, he and Gaston weren't that different. In fact, their characters and personalities were terrifyingly similar.

Before the curse had transformed his life, Adam had been a proud and heartless man who would spend no time thinking about others, just like Gaston. And he, too, had struggled to fill an emptiness inside, caused by his mother's death. In Adam's case, he tried to fill the void by hosting flamboyant parties and living an extravagant lifestyle, a proper prince in all his glory: powdered wig, embroidered waistcoat and jacket, and a full face of makeup, swamped by courtiers in panniers and lace-cuffed sleeves on their pure excess. He had taxed the village relentlessly to pay for his excesses, not caring what harm he caused to others.

Likewise, Adam's affluence and status had hindered him from appreciating the indisputable devotion and unconditional love he had received from the most unassuming people in his household - his servants - in the same way that Gaston's prime physique, ego, and self-centeredness has prevented him from appreciating the unconditional friendship LeFou had offered him.

If the Enchantress had never taught him the lesson, Adam realized, he could have become another incarnation of Gaston or worse, as hard as that was to face.

LeFou was looking up at him hopefully, waiting for his answer to his request. Adam found himself deeply moved by LeFou's unshakable loyalty to his undeserving friend. He hated to break the news to him, but there was no getting around it.

"He fell," Adam blurted out.

LeFou's eyes widened, and the color left his face. "What...?!"

"Your friend. The bridge collapsed while he was on it. He's…" Adam couldn't bring himself to say the word, but his face said it all. He could only say sympathetically, "I'm sorry, LeFou."

"Thank you." LeFou was silent a moment, then added sadly, "Perhaps it was for the best." He hung his head sorrowfully. Adam extended his hand and patted LeFou's sinking shoulder lightly.

"May... May I see his…" LeFou trailed off.

"Yes, of course," Adam said.

A few minutes later, Adam cut through the palace's courtyard with LeFou trailing haltingly behind him. Prior to their arrival to the site where Gaston had fallen, Adam had thoughtfully requested Lumiere to cover his body, so LeFou wouldn't have to deal with the brutal sight that would likely to haunt him for the rest of his life.

Adam didn't have to announce when they arrived. A plain white cloth lay on a floor with the ominous shape of a human body underneath. It was sufficient evidence to confirm to LeFou the truth of Gaston's unfortunate fate.

"Oh!" was the only word LeFou could say before he fell on his knees and a powerful sob shook his body.

"I'll see you later in the courtyard," Adam said gently, realizing that the man needed some time alone with his late friend.

It all felt very distant and surreal to LeFou. Only a few hours earlier, he had heard Gaston's thundering voice commanding the villagers to follow him and kill the beast. Perhaps other people were fooled, perhaps they failed to notice, but to LeFou, it was clear that his friend's intention wasn't as noble as he had claimed. Gaston was never concerned about the village's safety from the beast who would come stalking in the night and sacrifice the children to his monstrous appetite. Gaston was just seizing the opportunity to reclaim the glory he believed he was entitled to, to be hailed as a hero, to get the entire village to follow him unquestioningly...and in the process, to get revenge on Maurice and Belle for rejecting his offer, and on the Beast for stealing the affection of the girl he desperately coveted. As always, it was all about Gaston.

LeFou could still hear how Gaston's words that night were driven by hatred and jealousy. He could still see the searing fury and spiteful vengeance in his eyes as he threatened LeFou to obey and fetch his horse that night. And LeFou had done as he asked. But when LeFou, in turn, had pleaded for his help, instead of heeding his pitiful appeal, Gaston had heartlessly left him trapped under that harpsichord. At that moment, LeFou had realized that he had made a terrible mistake siding with such a heartless monster. Gaston was no longer the friend he knew and admired. Hatred had possessed him, envy had poisoned his mind, and covetousness had stained his heart.

"Gaston, I forgive you… but I shall never forget what _this_ taught me," he murmured, wiping the last tears from his eyes as he stood up to leave.

LeFou found the prince in the courtyard, sitting alone waiting for him. This time, there was hardly any animosity in the prince's eyes. Instead, they gleamed with sympathy.

"LeFou, I would like to offer a funeral for your friend. If you kindly be willing to accept my proposal, please inform Pere Robert to make the arrangements, with all the supplies and fees to be billed to me."

"Thank you for your generosity, Your Grace." LeFou's words of gratitude sounded so contradictory to his somber tone, but Adam perfectly understood how the man must have felt.

"Don't mention it. It is the smallest token that I can do for your friend."

Adam watched the slumping form of LeFou move away from the castle before fading behind the dense copse. Adam dragged a heavy breath. Indeed, it was easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend. Gaston hadn't known how fortunate he was to have LeFou as his loyal companion.

* * *

A month had past since the curse was broken. For most of the occupants of the castle and the villagers alike, their life had settled back to its rhythmical normality. The market was bustling with traders and customers, the mouth-watering scent of freshly baked baguettes filled the air, and pupils were queuing outside the school gate. The castle itself already returned to its former glory. The lawn was well-manicured, the windows were meticulously polished, and the servants were busy round about their business restoring neatness and order inside the castle.

Somehow, Adam was compelled to spend the day strolling in the meadow behind the castle, alone. Armed with a few books in his hand, he marched out, planning to would find an excellent spot to read his sappy romance novel without anyone noticing. But his intention was impeded when he went past the gravestone which was just laid there less than two weeks ago.

Something inside him stirred when he traced the fancy inscription on the stone, thinking about the life of the person behind the name. Above the name was a wonderful epitaph that Pere Robert had chosen:

 _Even as the sun goes down, to end the light of day._

 _It's rising on a new horizon, somewhere far away._

 _Once met, never forgotten…._

Adam knelt and began. "I know… you must think I am foolish for speaking to you like this, but if you still have ears to hear, hear me out," the prince uttered."Look, Gaston... I…-" He paused as a sense of remorse overpowered him."I regretted that we met the way we were. You hated me, and I hated you."

"Sometimes when you are jealous, it becomes impossible to look at things, even the most regular ones, with the same pair of eyes… and perhaps that's why you so desperate to…-" _Kill me,_ he wanted to say, but Adam couldn't bring himself to say the word.

"But, honestly, the two of us weren't that different…. When I saw you, I caught a glimpse of selfishness and conceit that used to dwell in me. Even before I was turned into an actual beast, I didn't have any trace of humanity! Not until every single thing that I was proud of, cherished, valued…was taken away from me.

"I am sorry things ended this way for you. I wished you had gotten the chance to learn the lesson the same way I did - no matter how bitter, it's worth it," he admitted, and his chest was encumbered with burden as he said it.

"You know what, Gaston? The villagers, my servants, Belle and her father...they all benevolently forgave me. So I think it's only fair if I extend my forgiveness to you. I hope this will help you to find peace." He turned around to pluck some wildflowers that grew around the meadow and laid them sympathetically on the ground.

"I don't know how close you were to LeFou… but from the way he spoke to me, I know that you meant a great deal to him. Therefore, you can rest assure that I will take care of him and make sure his needs are met," Adam promised. "I know he is grieving, but earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal."

The prince rose, feeling that his burden was lifted. He left the meadow light-spirited and carefree.

Meanwhile, behind the obscurity of the dense shrubbery, LeFou was struggling not to weep.

That afternoon, the wind brushed its gentle hand against the grassy field. The sun peeled its last rays off of the trees, casting a tall silhouette of their skeletal limbs on the field beneath. On the solitary grave among the sea of buttercups and dandelions, laid a modest arrangement of white roses, tied with a silk, crimson ribbon and accompanied with a deeply melancholic message.

 _Gaston, life is not forever._

 _But love is._

* * *

Notes: in my mind, that bouquet was from LeFou, secured with his silk bow tie. I haven't planned the next chapter yet, perhaps Adam's proposal? Wedding? Suggestion anyone?


	8. A Place I wanted to be

A/N: Just some harmless fluff! Enjoy :-) Thank you those who reviewed, fave, kudos, bookmarked and follow :-)

[Adam, Belle, T, Hurt/Comfort/Romance]

* * *

A PLACE I WANTED TO BE

People said that love could delude one's sense of rationality. Right now, even in front of foreign ambassadors, emissaries, and dukes alike, and even with the awareness that his concentration should belong to the meeting, Adam found his heart and mind had drifted elsewhere.

At least this was his excuse.

It was almost impossible for him to look at things, even the most ordinary ones, with the same pair of eyes. For example, the contract in Adam's hands...when his finger grazed its surface, his nose inhaled the hint of ink and paper, and immediately it reminded him of books…. of the library….of Belle. And the dusty blue linen napkin he crumpled between his fingers... it reminded him of her quaint blue dress. It'd be so nice, he mused. Despite himself, he found himself imagining his hand brushing the surface of the fabric, feeling her delicate form underneath... _It'd be so nice…_ he mused. The shiny tea cup resting on the placemat reminded him of her smooth, porcelain skin...

"My love," Adam muttered softly, trying not to caress the ceramic, and smiled into his tea.

"That's not a pen, Sire," a voice behind his shoulder whispered in discreet, hushed tones.

Adam blinked and stared at his maître'd. As the emissaries and dukes were busy arguing, Lumiere mouthed 'pen' again. Adam looked down and was mortified to see that he had been trying to sign the pact with his spoon. He felt as if he would die from lethal embarrassment the moment Lumiere stepped out of sight.

"Sire, perhaps drinks will help?" It was Cogsworth's turn to make sure he stayed sober during the meeting. Adam huffed in annoyance. It had only been three weeks since his epic transformation. After all the fantastical, thrilling moments were over and dealt with, then the reality began to sink in - Adam had a position to return to, years worth of paperwork, and a long list of royal obligations which had suffered a decade of neglect.

"A glass of wine would be great," he confided to Cogsworth.

Adam hadn't seen Belle since dinner the previous night. Even then it was only a mere hello and goodbye, because the town mayor had surprised him with an unscheduled visit. Adam wished he could just have one moment to be with the woman he loved, without having to be interrupted during their kiss, ducking into closets and behind the curtains to avoid Lumiere reminding him that his next meeting was in five minutes. Or he wished he could just evaporate into thin air to escape from his relatives' persistent demands that he come to Versailles for some useless royal function.

"With all due respect, I don't think alcohol will improve your concentration, Master," Cogsworth replied, taking Adam back to the world of the living.

"Fine." Adam took a deep breath. "Just tea then."

As Adam sunk down in his seat, his ears captured the bickering voices of the meeting participants fussing about some monetary dilemma.

"We need to raise the tax again then," one of them said, pointing at the paper in his hand. "We can't build a school… a hospital….a new meeting hall for free. The money has to come from somewhere."

Adam felt strange chill creep over his spine and a pang of guilt in his heart. The statement caused him a flash of deja vu. Behind his eyelids played visions of him heartlessly commanding his financial advisor to collect necessary monies from his hapless subjects, threatening those who refused to oeby with brutal, inescapable punishment.

"Excuse me -" Adam raised his hand, catching everyone's attention. "No need to raise the tax. I shall fund these projects myself."

"You...what?" the participant asked in bewilderment.

"This is isn't a charity project, Your Grace," another reprimanded, eyes wide.

"I know it isn't… it's just..." Adam stiffened defensively. He hadn't put enough thought into making up a good cover story about the curse and his eventual redemption. "A _personal_ reason," he finished lamely.

His claim was greeted with by incoherent murmurs. "Where will you get the money from?"

Adam shrugged nonchalantly. "I can sell some valuables and collectibles from the palace."

His statement stirred the ruckus even further, but no one seemed to object to his offer.

"In that case, Prince Adam, why don't you do the honor of announcing your plan to the citizens? A short speech perhaps?"

Adam nodded without thinking, just for the sake of ending the meeting prematurely.

Adam sat in front of his desk, half hidden behind the towering pile of paper, each sheet darkened with frustrated lines, badly formed and crossed-out phrases. The idea of a public appearance shouldn't faze him; as an aristocrat, his life had been the subject of public scrutiny since he could barely talk. Adam simply couldn't explain why he felt such unreasoning apprehension at the prospect. A prince should be regal, eloquent, and composed. Besides, he used to do this all the time, crafting words into delicate sentences, or strong ones, words that could move a kingdom from war to peace, transforming ruin to glory. Not only that, but as part of his education, he had taken elocution lessons and learned proper diction. But somehow, he couldn't find the right words. His mind was blank as a sheet of paper. He groaned into his hands in defeat.

 _It isn't going to be a long speech, just a short one,_ Adam told himself. _Just to inform the citizens of my plan._ If he wished, he didn't even have to explain that this was his way of repaying them for his past crimes.

"Master." A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. Lumiere emerged among the mounting piles of paper. He nudged the stash and set a tea tray at the edge of the desk.

"I'll be done in ten minutes, just give me time," Adam sighed, anticipating Lumiere would remind him of another impending meeting.

"It's not that, Sire."

"Another important letter?"

"No."

"Another banquet to attend?"

"No," Lumiere replied, eyes filled with concern. "Master, don't you think… you need a little _break_?"

Adam gave his servant an inscrutable look, but it seemed like Lumiere was able to see through him. As awful as the curse had been, there was a part of Adam that actually missed the carefreeness, solitude, and silence of those days. Perhaps it was a remnant of his monstrous self, because prior to the curse, Adam hardly could appreciate peacefulness and tranquility. He was an extrovert, a social butterfly who enjoyed being the center of attention. However, right now, the more he reflected, the more he cherished those quiet moments with Belle when they had sat in the garden in the snow and had nothing to do but be together. No one demanded his signature, asking his opinion or reminding him he only had five minutes to spare. There were no banquets, fetes, and dances to attend, no guests to regale, no relatives to entertain, no royalty to impress, and no reminders of his past. Just Shakespeare's sonnets and Belle in the snow.

"Sire, you see... there have been a lot of..-" _atrocious things_ , Lumiere wanted to say, but settled onh "changes and adjustments rapidly happening in your life. It's no wonder the stress and pressure has begun to take a toll."

Adam considered this. "What are you suggesting?"

"Why don't you take Mademoiselle Belle for a vacation? It's summer, after all, Sire, and you haven't been outside the castle grounds for nearly a decade. Let the sun put a little color in your skin," he suggested with a smirk.

Adam narrowed his eyes as he heard Lumiere's impertinent hint, but looking down at his extremely pale hands, he realized his maître'd had a point.

"Don't worry about the upcoming items on the agenda. Let Cogsworth and me take care of the rest," Lumiere articulated fluently as though the sentence had been rehearsed hundreds of time.

"Are you… are you sure?"

"Positive, Sire," he replied confidently.

"But the provincial budgeting proposal?"

"Cogsworth is aleady on it, Sire."

"What about the speech, and the meet-"

"I shall inform them later, Sire. Leave it to me."

Adam blinked again, feeling a little unsure but very much tempted. But, who was he to question the capability of his maître'd? Adam remembered the days before he had fangs. If there was a single soul in the castle who could smoothly orchestrate the most convincing excuses, flawlessly arranged extravagant banquet and announced terrible news with such eloquence that people would believe it was good news… it was Lumiere. He was smoothness, charm, and fluency personified. Adam was certain, that if Lumiere were wearing his flashy princely outfit, all these nobility would start addressing _him_ as the prince!

Excusing himself, Adam went to find his place of refuge - the library, where Belle usually was.

"My love, are you okay?" she asked, her eyes studying his tense figure as he strode inside. She approached him, raking her fingers through his hair and resting them around his neck. "You look pale! Are you feeling well?" Her hand touched his forehead to check its temperature.

"Ugh, no... I was just…-"

The word was lost somewhere between his thoughts. Adam looked at her and realized in these mesmerizing eyes he'd seen everything that he ever needed. Suddenly, he felt like the beast version of himself again, laying in his bed, helpless and wounded. He remembered how the gentle brush of her concerned hand lingered on his injured back, warm and comforting. Even when his incensed voice was commanding her not to touch him. Even when she looked startled and petrified as she withdrew her offending hand...she had stayed.

Belle could have left - she probably _should_ have - but something had kept her tied to his sickbed. Was it empathy? Guilt? A sense of duty to her rescuer? Adam didn't know, but he was forever glad she had chosen to return to him, to stay by his side, and not abandon him to live like a monster, forever remaining desolate and tortured without her.

"I was supposed to draft a speech. It seemed to...a bit too much for me," he sighed, instantly feeling like a failure.

Without preamble, she leaned forward. Her lips met his in a long, lazy kiss. There was something magical about the way their lips melted into each other, moving together in passionate surrender. Instantly, the weight of his princely responsibility, the embarrassing moment, the mundane meeting…. all seemed to dissipate into nothingness.

"Is that why you came here?" she asked, pulling away and giving him a chance to speak.

His hands smoothed the long, brown strands of hair along her temple and behind her ears. "Yes. I guess you just solved my problem." His thumb grazed her lips. "A simple solution, it seems."

"In that case, I can easily solve all of them," she whispered before pressing her lips against his, taking them both by surprise. But he didn't back away. He met her with equally warm, eager affection, encircling her waist with his hands, possessive and urgent, kissing her back like he was a dying man in a desert finding an oasis.

Then, his fingers brushed against the warmth of her bare shoulder, and his whole body seemed to fit against hers, his eyes murky with lust and desire. The touch of her skin against his was a torment, and Adam would give so much - anything really - for his hands to prowl over her skin, to mark every line and indentation of her body. It seems like his whole body became traitorous all a sudden, both agonizing and enjoyable.

Belle was pliant in his arms, heaving audibly like she was having trouble breathing, and for once, instead of worrying, Adam was actually enjoying it.

But he was a grown man, and as a prince, he had responsibilities and a reputation to uphold. Thus, he had to... he had to put a stop to this, _now_ , before he couldn't. He extricated his lips.

"Too much?" Belle managed to say, as breathless as he was. Her lips were red and swollen with the all-consuming passion they'd shared earlier. There was a glimpse of regret in her eyes as though she didn't want to wake up from the lustful haze that had ensnared them both. And while 'no' might possibly be the exact word that lingered on his lips, Adam ended up with a weak, wordless nod. A strange feeling pooled in his chest, a mixture of remorse, desire, and shame.

A polite knock on the door alerted them both. Belle swiftly detached herself, leaning backward to create an illusion of personal space, creating a respectable distance between them.

With a quick inhale into his aching lungs, Adam found his breath. "Yes?" he said to the door, flushing like some deprived bachelor who hadn't seen the light of day and being caught ravishing a maiden in his bedroom closet.

Mrs. Potts craned her head through the small gap at the library door. "Would you like anything to drink, Master? Miss?" It was an offer that Adam honestly couldn't appreciate, simply because the timing of it, but he settled with a polite "No, thank you."

Truthfully, their intimate exchanges had always been chaste, at best. Never like this. There had never been a lusty sigh as Adam pulled on Belle's waist in earnest, there was no battle for dominance between their tongues, and there was no wordless begging from her asking him to do more.

"You make me doing stupid things," Belle teased, and she let out the softest, sweetest whimper his ears could ever decipher.

"I didn't actually come here for _this._ " Adam gestured vaguely between them.

" _This_?" Belle repeated, smiling amusedly at his animated gesture.

"Yes. I came to ask you… whether you would be willing to accompany me on _a trip_."

"A trip? But I thought you have a lot of meetings to attend?" Her smile turned into a confused frown.

"Yes...I know. But I was having trouble concentrating, let alone making crucial decisions. So Lumiere said he would make an excuse to postpone everything or to have them decide without me," he explained.

Belle grinned."So, where are we going?"

"I'll tell you when we arrive! Now… pack your suitcase. We'll depart first thing tomorrow."

Adam pulled his blanket higher as the jarring sunlight harassed his peaceful slumber. The brightness of the West Wing felt so harsh after years adapting to live in the darkness. Yawning loudly, Adam hesitantly disengaged himself from the warmth of his bed, just as a polite knock was heard.

"Your morning tea, Your Grace?" offered the motherly voice of Mrs. Potts. Adam smiled sleepily, crawling to the edge of the bed.

He squinted when Mrs. Potts pulled the curtain open, causing the sunlight to flood into the room, reflecting off the newly polished floor and casting diffused shadows around the room. Adam's eyes immediately went to to the table that used to be occupied by the enchanted rose - the deceptively fragile-looking flower that was the enchantress' instrument of torture. Thankfully, the cursed bloom was nowhere to be found. In its place now stood a vase of demurely arranged white roses from the palace garden.

He sighed pensively, recollecting the memory. Right after his transformation, Belle had specifically asked Mrs. Potts to lavish Adam's room with a fresh bouquet of white roses.

"White roses are typically used in weddings - it's a sign of a new beginning - but their quiet beauty has also made them a gesture of remembrance," Adam recalled Belle saying. He appreciated the gesture and was grateful for her thoughtfulness and sensitivity.

Adam remembered that the year his mother died, he was ordained as the crown prince. He was given freedom and power, but he felt more like a prisoner than ever. The outside world held nothing for him...not without the love of his life: his mother. Marie Therese de Anjou.

Bitter nostalgia swept over him as he remembered her. Adam still could vividly recall the numerous despondent frowns that greeted him every time he emerged from his bedroom right after her death. The air was sour with dread, and when the servants' eyes collided with his, they were filled with regret, as though they were trying to sympathize with him. But how _could_ they? How could they know what it felt like to have your heart ripped out of you? To have the only reason to smile, the center of his world, the source of his strength, withered and wilted before his eyes?

When the Enchantress had cursed him, Adam had removed all of his mother's pictures and memorabilia. Seeing her portrait staring mutely at him seared his aching soul, reminding him of how he had failed her. The only reminder of her that he left was her favorite bloom in the garden - the white roses. Even after Belle came into the castle, he had never spoken anything about his loss.

But fate had its own way to tell the tales.

While barely conscious after he was wounded by the wolves, Adam had heard Mrs. Potts's maternal voice telling Belle the unfortunate chronicle of his life: the sudden passing of his mother, the poor parenting skill of his father, the spoilt and privileged life that he led… which eventually turned him into the hideous creature that he was inside. Despite her curiosity, Belle never brought up the topic after that.

Then she had taken him back to in Paris, to the crumbling structure that had once been her home. The room was so small, terribly basic and crammed with broken furniture, but she wanted to show him that in this humble attic of a windmill, true happiness was shared and a great love story was weaved. There was a far-off look in her eyes that Adam didn't quite recognize as she looked around the room. Amidst the dilapidated furniture and the yellowing and peeling wall paint lay a small bassinet. Her bed. Adjacent to it, among the pile of torn rags on her parents' bed, Belle had found her rusty rattle. Her face fell, her eyebrows furrowed, and her eyes glistened with moisture. Even when all she said was "let's go home," he could sense the sorrow bleeding out of her.

Learning about Belle's unfortunate past had given him the courage to open up and tell her the bitterest secret of his life.

"I felt my life and every will that I possessed die with her," Adam remembered telling Belle one day they were strolling in the garden, right after the curse was broken. "I hated my father, but my hate was turning me into a different version of him." Sadness clawed up in his throat, but the warm and comforting smile of his mother lingered on his mind.

Belle turned to face him, cupping his face with her hands to gather his attention. "But you are _not_ your father. You are Adam... and you've changed!"

"I know," he recalled answering."And for that, I need to thank you."

"It's not just me. The entire castle cared about you," she said, planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Blood makes you related, loyalty makes us family."

The melancholy within him evaporated at her words, the somber smile from earlier turning into an elated grin.

Another knock was heard, breaking Adam from his daze.

"Master, Mademoiselle is already waiting for you for breakfast," announced another voice from behind the door.

"Thank you, I shall be right there," Adam responded. "Oh yes, Lumiere!"

The servant in question glided gracefully inside the room.

"I may need a little help to reserve rooms for us." Adam handed him a paper with his instructions. "Preferably on the same floor," he added.

"I shall ask Maestro Cadenza to translate and write this for you," Lumiere answered. "And _this_." It was his turn to hand Adam a piece of paper. "Madame de Garderobe has compiled simple Italian phrases that might be useful," the maître'd finished. He bowed reverently and disappeared from view.

Just for a fleeting moment when the door was ajar, Adam could see Cogsworth glancing inside with his concerned eyes. Adam contemplated how the servants had all been objectified in the starkest and most horrific manner as a result of his misdeeds, stuck with him for years and years inside the confinement of the castle. Worse still, they were forced to endure his temperament and childish behavior...yet they remained ever loyal and concerned for his welfare.

 _Blood makes you related, loyalty makes us family._ He smiled as he said that to himself. And Adam promised himself that somehow, he would make it up to them.

"Are you ready to go, _mon amour_?" Adam held Belle's hand. They were standing with the enchanted book opened between them. A few suitcases were ready to join them for the trip.

"Of course! Where will you take me?"

Adam didn't answer right away, only tapping the side of his nose with his finger. "Just watch. It's a surprise." Thankfully, no one in the castle seemed to breathe a word about the destination of his impromptu escapade.

"Paris?"

"No."

"Versailles?"

"No."

Truthfully, Adam was surprised Belle hadn't suspected where he might take her. Lately, since Adam's etiquette tutor had been complaining his lack of table manners, Belle had established a deal as a mean of punishment _-_ no, _motivation_. For every splatter of soup outside his bowl (which sometimes landed on the table, but mostly on his shirt), she would quote the sappiest Shakespearean line out of her book. With so much "Romeo and Juliet" ingrained into his subconscious, it was hardly surprising that when it came to choosing a location… there was a specific place transfixed in his head.

He placed her hands in his as he pictured the place in his mind, both of them closing their eyes.

"Oh, Adam! This is… splendid!" she exclaimed, sweeping her sight around the mysterious location where they had landed. "I've always wanted to visit Verona. Wait, I thought you hated 'Romeo and Juliet'?"

He cherished the small frown of confusion that formed between her brows. Adam raised his voice confidently. "Who doesn't? A couple who were so foolish as to fail to communicate their plans to each other, causing both of them to die."

"That's not the point of the story! They were madly in love, unwilling to be separated even by death!" Belle insisted.

"Nonsense!" He feigned a scoff.

For a second, Adam enjoyed the annoyed look in her eyes, until he felt Belle's deceptively small hand smacking his forearm.

They explored the place a little while. Belle was positively radiant with energy, inhaling all the details of the old structure which to Adam looked no more impressive than the crumbling balcony in his palace during his curse.

"Adam, do you have a piece of paper?" came Belle's voice, as her eyes glued to the wall in the courtyard beneath the balcony where Juliet was said to have been wooed by Romeo. It was filled with sentimental notes of endearment in various language, appealing to the fictional heroine to cast lucky spells on their love lives.

"What? Are you going to-"

"Paper!" she repeated, more urgently.

Adam sighed as he fished for a crumpled paper inside the pocket of his breeches. He was sure Verona had earned a fortune from the legend of Romeo and Juliet, despite the fact that there was little evidence that the couple ever existed. His history tutor said there was almost nothing to link the house to Shakespeare's tragic love story and that the celebrated balcony was constructed out of bits of a medieval sarcophagus in the 17th century. The only shared connection was the fact that the house was probably once the home of the Cappello family - who may have been the model for the Capulets of "Romeo and Juliet."

"Done!" she announced, proudly sticking the note in the surface of the wall.

"Vandalism," Adam muttered, shaking his head in disagreement.

"Your expensive education deprived you from growing any kind of romantic bone in your body," Belle protested, to which Adam just rolled his eyes to another dimension.

After Belle had seen enough of the balcony from various angles, they headed off to find a place for the night. Adam immediately identified an elegant-looking building with a sleek man in a Spartan's outfit manning its foyer. A sign that read 'hotel' reaffirmed his finding.

The receptionist was a tall, dark-haired and handsome man dressed in a loose white robe, and a simple green wreath adorned his hair, just like a Roman viceroy. His copper skin shone like oiled bronze, a perfect representation of what, perhaps, Roman gods would look like in real life.

"May I help you?" the man articulated politely in Italian. Adam immediately handed the poorly written scribble that Maestro Cadenza had translated for him.

The hotel owner smiled smugly before saying tersely," _Momento_ ," and then disappeared behind the door. After a long fifteen minutes, he returned, babbling some Italian words beseechingly that Adam interpreted as a polite apology for causing them to wait. He handed Adam two keys with a large 'Amore' written in intricate calligraphy. Adam had a sinking feeling about it but decided to check the room out first before protesting.

" _S'il vous plaît_ , this way," the man said in broken French, indicating for Adam and Belle to follow him. Trailing behind them, another young man dressed as a Spartan soldier carried their few belongings.

The door flung open, revealing a spacious room that married country simplicity with classical Italian grandeur.

The first thing Adam noticed was a large number of lit candles around the bed, presumably to create a romantic atmosphere. In the center of the room was a massive gilded canopy bed with white valance drapes. The wall behind the bed was bare, revealing its earthen shade of terracotta stone. Parts of the furniture had been left rugged and unpainted, but instead of looking unfinished and tacky, their rustic look blended seamlessly into the room's overall charm. The bedsheet was white silk decorated with crimson rose petals. On the wall was a large Renaissance-style painting of a naked couple engaged in intense amorous activity.

Adam suddenly frowned, the mirth fading from his gaze. "No, I didn't order _one_ room - we need _two,"_ he emphasized, holding two fingers up in front of the grinning Roman god.

The man shook his head, pointing to the paper that Adam had given to him earlier, and read it all out, as though reiterating that he hadn't made any mistake."But this what you requested, see?" came his stubborn reply.

It was then that Adam regretted not paying enough attention to his foreign language tutor. With no means to explain, Adam could only draw a helpless breath, and his sight fell back on the painting, the most striking object in the room.

Following Adam's gaze, the man explained, "François Boucher." He made a motion of painting on imaginary canvas, Adam presumed that this was the artist's name. The man went on in Italian, "Striking work! Very Impressive! But again, he is an excellent French painter." Adam couldn't catch any of the complicated Italian phrases - all he got was "impressionante" and "francese." However, the dramatic way the man spoke and the tone of his voice indicated his positive adoration. On the bottom of the masterpiece was inscribed 'Heracles and Omphale.' _Why are people so obsessed with fictitious couples?_ Adam mused.

His eyes unwittingly fell on Belle, who was meticulously evaluating the painting like an expert art curator. For a fleeting moment, Adam considered teasing her by suggesting her father start painting nude portraits if he ever wanted to become famous.

But his intention to aggravate Belle was forgotten when he saw a pair of fresh linen robes and white lingerie made from silky gossamer fabric hanging by the window sill. Despite himself, he couldn't help imagining how Belle would look wearing them, and quickly had to look away to distract himself.

"First time?" the receptionist prodded again, eyes glinting with poorly hidden mischief. Adam didn't know whether he meant first time in the hotel, in Verona...or… _something_ else. But from the way the man grinned suggestively, the teasing edge on his tone, and the subtle nuance of his gesture, he must be hinting at something salacious.

"Oh Adam, I….I don't know what to say!" came Belle's delightful squeal.

"Neither do I," Adam whispered, still wearing his princely smile until the meddling receptionist disappeared behind the door. Thankfully, Belle didn't take the gesture of booking them into a honeymoon suit as anything but a credit to Adam's romantic thoughtfulness.

"I am sorry to insult your expensive education," Belle added, curving her hand around his arms, smiling sweetly.

But Adam hardly paid attention to that. His mind flew hundreds of miles back to his palace. "I'm going to kill him," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose in dismay. He could only imagine Lumiere retelling his prank to Cogsworth and both of them laughing at his expense.

"What? Who?" Belle glanced at him in befuddlement.

"Lumiere! I am sure he made Maestro Cadenza translated Lancelot and Guinevere and not my note!"

Belle chuckled. "He wasn't kidding when he told me your family is temperamental," she paused for effect. "Half temper, half mental."

The sun trickled through the valance of their beautiful wrought iron bed. Adam stirred lightly and reluctantly detached himself from under the pile of soft, warm duvet. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept this well, restful and unburdened.

"Still thinking about killing Lumiere?" a feminine, sleepy voice beckoned. Adam blinked, adjusting his mind to the impossible reality of sharing a bed with the most beautiful creature in the world.

"Maybe not..." He rolled over to get a better view of the angel beside him. Her slender figure was wrapped demurely in a gauzy white nightgown. Adam gave a throaty chuckle, his exasperation over the sleeping arrangement mishap now only an amusing memory.

"You seemed to have had such a good sleep, you should consider giving him a promotion," Belle mused, her hand reaching out to caress his face. "I am sure Lumiere would be judicious and sensible enough not to let the word out that we ended up in honeymoon suite."

"I don't know about that," Adam snorted. "We're probably already a headline in Versailles as we speak."

"Oh well. Even if you HAD reserved two rooms last night, I bet you'd have ended up in here anyway," she quipped. True, Adam couldn't deny that. How could he miss a rare chance to be alone with Belle uninterrupted? Especially after weeks of meetings and political correspondence that hurled towards him endlessly like a charging bull. Not only that, at some point last night, Adam had considered shredding the enchanted book to pieces and telling Belle they could have another week off, since they had to arrange a carriage to return home to France.

He watched her gazing lazily at him, eyes filled with adoration, heart full. Warmth spread to his fingertips as they met her skin. Adam tightened his embrace around her, pulling her close, lips brushing over her temple. He couldn't stop his mind from imagining the moment leading further...the passionate mashing of their bodies, the dampness of their skin, clothes undone and raspy moans...

"Adam?" she asked, voice quiet against the stillness, snapping Adam from his lustful stupor.

"We… I mean, I… I better dressed now." He hastily stood up and left the bed, worried that Belle had caught how red he had turned.

It was a fine day in Verona as they meandered through the heart of the city. In fact, it was so fine, the sun beat strongly against their skin. Lumiere hadn't beent kidding when he said the italian summer sun could bring color to Adam's pale skin. He would return as a tall, _dark_ and handsome prince! he thought sarcastically.

Thinking ahead, Adam went to find something that might protect them against the harsh elements of Mother Nature.

"Belle, you go ahead and explore. I'll meet you at the bookstore in twenty minutes," he said, and they parted.

His venture in looking for a remedy against heat took him into a sheltered street filled with classy looking shops. At once he saw the solution to his problem: a wide, floppy, woven hat that looked both elegant yet casual enough for a vacation. _Fashionable! Belle will love this!_ He grinned, congratulating himself.

The owner of the stall forced Adam to contemplate the beauty of a headdress made from the bright colors of a peacock's tail, extolling its beauty. Seeing that Adam was far from being interested, shebecame more pushy, singing the praises of its elegance and never-ending gracefulness more firmly.

The more Adam insistently said he wasn't interested in any kind of headdress, that he was here just to get the straw hat, the more dramatically she lowered the price and upped her hyperbolical rhetoric. Adam gritted his teeth, crossing his arms, and snarled with an intimidating, predatory look. She blatantly disregarded all the cues, until finally Adam reached into his pocket and paid for both the headdress and the hat. Perhaps Belle would appreciate the peacock feathered headdress, Adam mused, clutching the result of his hunt.

Then the wind decided to snatch his shopping prize, blowing it out of his reach. "My hat!"

Adam ran vigorously throughout the length of the town after the hat. He climbed a wall and leaped deftly over the fences as though nothing could stand in his way. He dashed through the middle of the market, ignoring the confused glances, concentrating on tracking the flying object that swiftly glided away. Somewhere during the chase, he lost one of his shoes, and his shirt untucked itself and lost a few of its buttons. Adam accidentally stepped into a large puddle, tripped over a basket of oranges, and nearly ran into a carriage full of fish, but he successfully caught up with the hat as soon as it landed….in the river.

Adam allowed his pace to slow as he approached the riverbank, trying to think of the best way to reach the object that swayed in the sluggish current.

"Is this yours, sir?" A kind man who happened to be fishing fetched the hat with his nets and held it out too Adam. Without a second thought, Adam walked into the shallow edge of the brook, retrieving his prized hat.

" _Gracias_ ," Adam replied gratefully, but his smile dissolved into a dejected frown when he saw the state of the hat, soaked and soiled with murky water.

"Adam?!"

He nearly fell into the water hearing Belle's horrified tone. Their eyes met for a long eternity, trapped in their own shock.

"Belle, what are you..-?" Adam asked after finding his voice. He forgot that he was half covered in mud, his feet were bare, his hair plastered with sweat, and his chest baring itself to the world. The boatman grinned in amusement watching their exchange. The man said nothing of Adam's disheveled appearance, but that teasing smirk curling on his face had spoken his mind.

"Adam, I waited so long. So I…- " Belle gaped again, gesturing at him. It took Adam a moment to figure out what she meant: his hair was a mess, his shirt was opened down to his breeches, his pants were rolled up at the knee and still dripping with mud.

"What _happened_ to you?" she managed, looking as his bare feet caked with muck.

Adam looked down at his bare dripping chest and soaked, disheveled clothes. Though he knew it unlikely, he could swear the smell of the fish still lingered on his clothes. The soaked hat was long forgotten.

"Did you… did you just try to go for a swim?" Belle asked again, making up for Adam's lack of response.

"No," he replied. His fingers were fumbling with the buttons to secure them back, but they refused to be tamed! Even with his brain screaming a string of commands to handle the situation gracefully, his hands felt uncontrollable and weak, and his mouth became traitorous all of a sudden. He winced and averted his gaze, frantically trying to put his thoughts into words, which in the end only summarized into a soft, unsure, "Ugh."

Belle's eyes caught the sight of the abandoned hat, which now was ruined and stained with dirt. Her lips fell into an easy smile. _Oh, Adam…._

"Here, allow me." Belle reached for his shirt. As soon as her hand reached towards his collar, her eyes fell on the scar on his neck - a lasting memento of the wolf attack. Her finger paused right there, as though remembering her debt. She managed to compose herself in time but then, on his side, she saw a different, deadlier scar through the drenched, translucent linen that hung closely to his body.

Belle muffled a horrified gasp, eyes wide, speechless, as the sight triggered a brief but aching wave of memories. Phantom gunshots echoed in her head. Belle stopped there, clutching to the fabric of his shirt, allowing the melancholy to blend into her thoughts.

"Belle, are you all right?" It was Adam's turn to get worried.

"I thought you would leave me forever," she sniffed, wiping a tear from her eye before anyone else noticed.

"And I thought I saw an angel in heaven," Adam replied, smiling as he tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "This..." He gestured towards once the vicious bite wound, a reminder of the night she fled to the woods. "...was the first time I ever thought about someone else. And this..." He placed her hand over the bullet scar. "...was the first time I heard someone else thinking about me."

Adam knew that he could have died permanently in Belle's arms that day all those months ago and he would have gone in peace, knowing she had returned to him, and knowing what love felt like. Their happiness, though unmeasurable in the lightness it had brought to their lives, was not without its blemishes.

"Let's buy you some shoes and change," Belle suggested. The bitterness had left her face, only leaving the sweetness behind. Before Adam could utter any response, she leaped up with renewed enthusiasm.

Propping himself against the thick wooden bark of a nearby tree, Adam studied her from a distance, watching her silhouette moved towards the hubbub of the market.

She was showing signs of a healthy glow from the sun and her eyes shone with curiosity, narrowing and widening alternately with poorly hidden interest as she peered into various stalls in the market. Belle was in her element. This was where she belonged. She was an adventurous, free-spirited woman. She looked so natural with a map and dictionary peeking on her pocket. Everything was new to her: the friendly people, the language, the vibrant outfits, and the intriguing culture around them.

Adam could do nothing but just stop and watch. His heart swelled, seeing her so happy. Back in Villeneuve, many people reprimanded her, saying that women belonged at home, serving their husbands, not gallivanting around the world. It was no wonder Belle abhorred her provincial life and the people in her village.

Something tight and awful lodged itself in his chest, and the distance from here to where she stood seemed a thousand miles further than it was before. He remembered this unpleasant feeling, the same dismay as he had felt standing on the rampart, torn between his own desire to keep her by his side and his love that set her free.

What had been intimate affection and love was now a gaping ravine that Adam didn't know how to conquer.

He was so engrossed in his tormented thought that he didn't realize Belle had returned to his side.

"Adam?"

Adam jumped, wide-eyed, as he was greeted with Belle's face, unsmiling. He didn't know where to look, where to put his hands, so he settled on rubbing the back of his head. "I am fine," he replied unconvincingly.

Belle let an exasperated sigh. "Adam…" She placed her hand on his, squeezing it gently to encourage him to speak. But he pulled away from her, a fraction more roughly than he intended to. His gaze glinted with regret when he saw a flash of hurt in her eyes.

"Belle…." he choked. Belle stared at him, eyes searching, expectant and anxious, and Adam sighed again. "Do you think you can be happy spending the rest of your life... with me?"

Belle's eyebrows slanted in perplexity. "Is that what you worry about?"

"I don't want to keep you where you don't want to be," he stressed, exhaling sharply and closing his eyes. "I don't want to imprison you….to limit your dreams. Just because I have duties to fulfill doesn't mean my life has to dictate yours. I belong in the castle. My life, although full of privilege, is also loaded with restrictive rules, nonsensical manners, and empty political agendas. My schedule is dictated by meeting and other pressing responsibilities. I don't want my fate and calling to cause you to suffer."

"You aren't," Belle told him. She took his hand in hers and placed it on her chest so Adam could feel the comforting rhythm of her heartbeat. "Even if you were a poor artist, a mighty prince, even a hideous beast...whether you traveled around the world or were confined in a dinky cell….whatever you might be and wherever you will be, I will be here with you. I know I can't promise to be with you for all eternity, as much as I would wish to, but I'll be here with you as long as I live. I swear it."

Adam felt his heart turned over when he saw the faint shine of tears in her eyes, and even own his eyes tinged with moisture.

There was no amount of time together long enough to satisfy a relationship as tortured, and a love as battered but at the end unyielding, as theirs had been. He leaned forward, answering her devotion with a gentle kiss on her brow. The girl in his arms generously accepted his gift.

"I love you, Belle," he whispered, pulling back just far enough to form the words, lips still brushing her skin.

She responded in kind, just a touch louder. "I love you too."

Words faded as their lips joined. And Adam knew, there was no place remote enough, no mountain high enough, no distance far enough that would separate him from the love of his life.


	9. The One

A/N: Just some of my ideas of events that proceeding Adam's proposal. Thank you, those who reviewed, fave, kudos, bookmarked and follow :-) I apologize in advance for any grammatical/typos on this one, the typical clumsy writer on the loose!

[Adam, Belle, T, Hurt/Comfort/Romance]

* * *

THE ONE

About two months ago, Adam received a wedding invitation from his cousin of his who lived in the neighboring kingdom, in England, a purely social affair - a wedding to be precise. Adam intended to make a brief appearance for the sake of politeness, he even considered using the enchanted book, but clearly his bookish, adventurous (and slightly odd) _'girlfriend'_ had a different idea.

"They are your family, Adam! And they've offered us to stay for the whole week. Besides, aren't you at least a little bit excited about the prospect of a road trip just the two of us? It would be splendidly romantic. You've been complaining about having a time alone since that budgeting meeting a few months ago."

However, Belle's gentle admonishment didn't sit quite well with Adam's reclusive inclination. "But what are we going to do there? Rotting in the room for the entire week?"

"Oh, my love! There is plenty to do… we can try punting down River Thame, and what about visiting Stratford upon Avon? That's a proper romantic escapade!"

Thanks to Belle's unhealthy addiction to everything Shakespeare. Even when Adam was adamant the people in England perhaps just tried to grab their money, conning them with a random Tudor house and scribbling 'this where Sir William Shakespeare was born' when clearly it wasn't.

"It rains a lot in England, and I am not fond of getting wet," Adam opposed. He began doubting the whole romantic escapade idea, especially when he learned that Belle didn't intend to use the enchanted book. She insisted that the journey wasn't just about the destination - but also about the process of getting there.

"Adam, there is an invention called umbrella and boots!"

"I knew you're going to say that," came his dry reply. But he knew Belle's stubbornness could only rival his own and a debate like this was a complete squandering of time. Resigned to his fate, he stepped outside the room, perhaps the best solution he could do before they began reenacting the epic feud of Capulet and Montague.

"Where are you going?" Belle asked, twisting her elegant brows.

"To inform Lumiere and Plumette about the trip, they will need to pack their stuff too, right?" Adam replied offhandedly, standing up from his seat.

"Who says they are coming?"

Adam could feel his brows nearly touch his hairline. " _What_? You mean… just _us_ and...the…-"

"Yes!" Her voice was far too jovial and resplendent for Adam to respond with his signature eye-rolling derision. Taking a cue from Belle's independent nature, Adam should've seen it coming.

"Adam, we'll be _fine…_ I lived for twenty-five years without servants!"

Adam was about to retaliate by saying he had lived for thirty-five years without a woman. But, reminiscing Lumiere's nugget of wisdom, he decided it wasn't a very wise thing to say.

"We can enjoy our privacy properly," Belle added, making up for Adam's lack of response. Her absurd comment drew a laugh from him.

"Yes, at the cost of me yanking those suitcases, dragging them around the cobbled street of London, wet, cold and miserable," he complained.

"Oh, Adam…." Belle approached and threw herself into his arm. "Do you know that you look positively _irresistible_ when you are doing those…. _workout_ ," she emphasized, running the digits of her hand on the button of his shirt. A particularly impish smile graced her lips and her wide mesmerizing eyes gleamed with hopefulness. "Very _please_?"

Adam considered her plea. He was sure Belle was no enchantress, but the prospect of hauling heavy luggage sounded more lucrative by the minute as though he was under a magic spell.

"You are very persuasive," he muttered, breath hitched as her finger made contact with his flesh. He wondered where all his fierceness and disciple had gone in the face of Belle's heartbreakingly sweet smile.

"Then be persuaded..." she grinned triumphantly. Adam couldn't decide whether he supposed to feel thrilled or manipulated.

* * *

Thankfully a week journey from Villeneuve to London was rather uneventful. _Uneventful_ on Belle's optimistic vocabulary (and Adam's harmless sarcasm). They were nearly robbed once, suffered from broken wheel twice, and got lost their way more than Adam had enough fingers to keep track. On positive notes, Belle told Adam there was nothing new on whatever they'd encountered under the sun. She called it - the struggle of common people.

Surprisingly, they arrived in London with two days to spare before the wedding. Adam mentally kissed the gravelly path leading to his cousin's expansive country house to express his delight. But his trial was far from over, in fact, it was just about to begin.

Adam brushes the shoulders of the blue coat so that they align properly with his musculature. He stared at the reflective surface of the mirror. It was the evening of the wedding reception after the church blessing in the morning. He craned his head, scrutinizing the unfamiliar silhouette that shared the same pose as him with familiar blue eyes on his unfamiliar human face.

The clothing fit perfectly, molded incoherence to the curve of his figure, but there something about it felt wrong, and he didn't understand why. As a beast, he yearned for the day that he could see his reflection, his facial feature, his bodily appearance would one day matched the person he was inside. But here was, returning back into the exact semblance of his former self, Adam felt almost alien in his formal clothing, as though he was disguising himself into someone else.

It was the face paint, the flashy finery, the exorbitant amount of cologne, the wigs, the overindulgence, everything about his royalty life that he used to love so much now clung to his skin like a plague. Adam shook his head to get rid of the bitter nostalgia that danced across his vision. His own reflection would be a constant reminder of how he used to be, his troubled past, his flair for the dramatic, flamboyant appearance. It was so pointless…. boastful… wasteful even.

"Excuse me?" Adam called to a man that preoccupied straightening nonexistence creases on his jacket. "Can I remove all these?" Adam gesticulated around his face and hair.

After a few minutes of polite debate, the subservient attendance assisted Adam to remove his wigs and wore less face paint that he ought to. Adam stared at his reflection and smiled. He felt a lot more relaxed and at peace with himself, even when to the world outside he would be scandalously underdressed.

This visit carried a few mission, Adam must show his royal acquaintances that not only he was capable of doing more than just drinking, mingling and wasting time in idle foolishness, but also that he had become more responsible and sensible ruler - he had _changed_. The prospect of this assignment made Adam considered reading Romeo and Juliet far less daunting alternative.

"Ah there you are!" came Belle's sweet, familiar voice. Her brown hair was piled up into a simple but elegant updo, a few curled strands framing her pixie face, freshly brushed with a modest amount of face powder, her lips laced with the palest shade of pink that seemed to match perfectly with her porcelain-like skin.

" _Devilishly_ handsome," Belle whispered into his ears but withdrew a step back when she saw his jaw hanging but no words to fill it. "You looked mortified. Do I look that bad?"

Adam was about to quip some clever retort on how Belle always managed to manipulate his lack of self-confidence into a swelling pride that could easily filled the room, but then his eyes caught on Belle herself, and it felt like his heart had dropped on the proximity of his knee. The witty reply ends its short life against his lips.

"You… I…-" Adam started and stalled, swallowing his thick tongue. His eyes were greeted with a sight of Belle, beautifully arrayed in sea blue dress that coordinated with his, lined with a glittering gossamer fabric that had a subtle sheen of silver under perusal of candlelight. A slight gap on the front revealed her modest cleavage, clad in a fitting scarf that contrasted nicely against her alabaster skin. Her eyes were shining bright, and his breath caught unwillingly in his throat as she flashed one sweet, shy smile at him.

He tore his eyes away from Belle to the clueless chambermaid who happened to watch their entire romantic but awkward exchange. Unfortunately, she had only a pile of dirty laundry and a duster to offer him.

"Is this… too revealing?" The girl adjusted the scarf to cover most of her bare shoulder.

Irritatingly, Adam found Belle beautiful no matter what she was wearing or doing. From that old fashioned blue dress that she wore when she was running her errands, that billowy golden signature gown that had become the latest fad in Villeneuve, or even that plain underdress she wore when she stood by the rampart, breathlessly calling his name. Adam had no doubt that his future wife would still be astoundingly beautiful wearing _nothing_!

She was like an angel, an angel who frowned in confusion and apprehension as she stared at him. Him. "Oh.. no no…! You look fine. Absolutely fine. Better than fine," Adam blurted a series of nonsensical words.

"Adam, you appear nervous. Is everything okay?"

Although Adam had hosted a few banquet right after the curse was broken, it was always held in the comfort and familiarity of Villeneuve. Tonight was different. It would be his first night commiserating with all his relatives: the dukes, barons, and royalty who knew his previous vain, overindulgent life - completely out of his comfort zone.

"Oh, yes..yes… I'm fine," he replied unconvincingly. "Shall we…-?" he offered his hand.

 _This was my world._ He coaxed his courage. _I should be able to navigate, to conquer... to vanquish my fear._ In his unspoken thought, Adam wanted to do well, not just for himself, but for Belle, he knew God-sent-sent helper worry every second for his well being.

"One step at a time. You are doing great!" came Belle's encouraging voice.

The ballroom was just like Adam had imagined. It was bedecked with glittering chandeliers, the billowing dresses that swept the floor, the lingering scent of alcohol mixed with expensive cologne, the sea of food and wine, and every wealth imaginable. He was _fine_ \- as he said it, until the thundering voice of Prince Philippe Dubois, announcing the floor was opened for the first dance.

As the soprano unleashed her voice, the sound caused a flash of bitter images around Adam's eyes, of the dancing, the grandeur and the powerful rendition of Madame de Garderobe's beautiful arias accompanied by Maestro Cadenza's perfect accompaniment. Adam's heartbeat is trying to punch through his ribcage. He tried to suppress the unpleasant nostalgia from wearing his composure down to nothing.

"Oh, aren't they looked so much in love!" Belle commented, looking at Claudette, the beaming bride nestling in the protective arm of her groom, Edward - an English royalty. The pair glided the floor with their elegant stride before inviting the guest to join in.

"Adam?" Belle's concerned voice finally broke his stupor. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Adam's hands are shaking by the time he finds his voice again. It's hoarse and embarrassingly uncertain, he wasn't even sure who he tried to convince, was it Belle or himself?

"Adam, look at me."

That moment as he saw Belle's eyes staring at him passionately, his princely mask cracked and his terrified, troubled expression managed to shine through. Adam knew he could lie easily with his mouth but never with his eyes.

"Belle, I'm sorry… I am just...-" he couldn't even finish his sentence, something within him broke at the word, a knot of emotion burning hot and tight at the back of his throat.

After a beat of mustering his courage, he began. "This reminded so much of my past, the….the vain man I used to be," he managed, not with his authoritative manly voice, but of an orphaned boy who was abandoned by his father: unloved and forgotten.

"You can do this. I'll help you," she said, planting a chaste kiss of positive affirmation.

Belle's warm hand pressed against his forearm reassuringly, suddenly Adam found it easier to breathe. He's a beast all over again, in the blue jacket, trying to dress like a human and bewildered as to how he's managed to get such a beautiful woman to dance with him.

And like always, her strength alone was enough to inspire him to determination.

"And you….you'll charm them all with your smile and enthrall them with your kindness, as you did me."

At that moment, Adam began to realize the dynamic of their romance. His life attention, his strength, and inspiration were constantly orbiting around Belle, he took her hand, kissed her, cherished her….it was clear that she was clearly the sun in his sky.

But, as the dance ceased to a stop, Adam's found the limit of his emotion was tested once more.

 _What does he see in her?_

 _Rumor said she an artist daughter…._

 _This world is no fairy tale, wondered what the prince was even thinking!_

 _Courting a peasant! How preposterous!_

Those mocking insults were getting familiar by the minutes, flying around every corner of the ballroom, some in hushed tones, some in subtlety, some disguised in a joke, whispered behind the curve of the hands, between sipping their wine, beneath the raised brows that slanted in disapproval and darting judgemental glances.

His ears grew hot from it. By the way people raising their brows at him, perhaps, they could see a billowing waft of steam coming off his head. He wanted to shout in his beastly roar and stormed over those scandalous peacocks in their ostentatious finery and formal gown and gave them a piece of his mind.

But what could he say? Admitting that he was previously cursed as a beast? Expounding the untold story of Belle's bravery together with his castle's enchantment? Perhaps people would laugh heartily at its absurdity and stamped him as a lunatic prince who came out with such an intricate story to justify him courting a peasant.

Of course, for Adam, Belle was an extraordinary girl. With her exceptional boldness, courage, and kindness and salvaged his entire castle and its inhabitants from the curse that nearly enslaved them forever. But for many, Belle was still a commoner, more so a peasant who had a stroke of luck in bagging herself a handsome prince.

Adam futilely wished he was at home, in his castle, where there always _someone_ that kept his temperament at bay and reminded him of the boundary of impropriety. Lumiere was always there, nodding in silence and encouraged him to breathe slowly…. In and out. Cogsworth worked his best excuse to distract gossipy dignitary and offered them to top up their wine. While Mrs. Potts would give him a pointed glance, and Adam would huff in mounting annoyance, crossed his arm tightly in front of his chest, and let his rage shimmer like a boiling hot soup as the hushed whispers continued.

But not today, today were only him… and his mounting rage.

Thankfully, his anger eased on the sight of Belle, talking to his aunt and uncle, despite the hateful rumor, Belle seemed to fit perfectly where she was. Adam remembered, when he was still had grotesque fangs, Belle mentioned that the villagers made a blatant remark that she was weird (to which he replied saying her village sounded awful). It wasn't just the villager who noticed Belle was different. All the emissaries, diplomatic dignitaries, other princes, and princess made the same reproach.

Why can't everyone else see what he saw in Belle?

Why can't they remove the preconceived notion behind her status and where she came from in the social strata and delved deeper to get to know her as a person?

 _She doesn't deserve this._

But admittedly, even Adam himself couldn't appreciate what kind of extraordinary girl she was at first. He begrudged her because she was a daughter of a thief. He was once like them! Appraising people based on their heritage, appearance, valuing people based on position and affluence. He was like them before the Enchantress came and taught him the valuable lesson. A lesson that no one could learn through words and lecture, but through experience.

"Adam!" A voice shattered his contemplative reverie. "Oh, my lovely nephew!"

Adam barely recognized the owner of the voice. Her hair silvering with age, and years and age definitely bore evident on her regal posture. "Aunt Yvonne!"

The woman embraced him and kissed his cheek affectionately.

"Oh! is this your favorite nephew you often talked about? He didn't look thirty-five to me!" said another middle-aged lady in lavish dress and thick make-up. After a few minutes of mentally dissecting the powdered wigs, towering headdress, thick face paint and ostentatious dress, he recognized the lady.

"Ah, Countess Madeleine Valois of Vasconia," Adam said bowing down. The lady debonairly offered her hand, which Adam, at first, forgot what to do with it. Thankfully, the lady's red pouty lips eventually gave him the right hint.

"Pleasure to meet you here," Adam smiled a little at his lapse of grace and kissed the back of her hand.

Turning to his right, another lady, roughly her aunt's age, eagerly trying to make acquaintances with him. "...And I'm Amerie de Albuquerque, the countess of Provence," she introduced, smiling coyly.

"The honor is mine," Adam replied politely, trying not to stare on the lady's towering headpiece longer than appropriate.

"Such _charming_ , youthful countenance! I envy you, my prince," she reciprocated him with a mouthful compliment.

Adam was about to comment on that but immediately reminded that these bunch of simpering ladies were oblivious about his enchantment and perhaps own no memory at all that his castle had been disappearing into the landscape for the past decade.

"So, I heard you are engaged to Duchess Belle Therese of Brabant? What a fortunate maiden! Who is her parents exactly? Where does she live?" Countess Madeleine just plowed through her felicitations and fired line of questions with no mercy.

Adam didn't know how long the gossip had circulated behind his back that Belle suddenly earned a title and numerous surnames that seemed to be dropped from the sky. But this was new, at least it wasn't a judgemental rumor that burnt his ears a few moments ago.

"Mademoiselle Belle Beaumont," Adam amended. "And her father is a painter and clock maker."

"Your future wife-? A peasant?" Countess Madeleine clarified, he eyed Adam as though he had grown another head. "So the rumor is _true_?"

"Yes," Adam confirmed. "Belle is a commoner. Any problem with that?"

"Oh, no….no….no. Of course not," the lady with piling headpiece replied. "But, it's rather… rather _unseemly_ , for a royal court to have a first wife of such heritage, don't you agree?" the countess turned to Yvonne, asking for approval.

"Hope you don't mind me saying this, Adam. But in our society, marriage is always a perfect avenue to expand one's political horizon and embrace new allies," Yvonne piped in to clarify the other ladies' point of view.

"What about Lady Mary Francis Stuart from Hampshire," the countess said insistently, fanning herself with her fancy feather fan, whispering loudly. "She would make an _excellent_ ally, and with no brother and uncle, you would be next in the throne. A _perfect_ choice!"

Adam resisted not to glare at her, but her obvious display of pageantry giving him cues that the lady didn't share any common goals, values, and priorities with him.

"I actually don't mind marrying a commoner than a bourgeois. In fact, I am _delighted_ with my choice. Rather unconventional I know, but I really much prefer to exercise my freedom in choosing who I marry."

"Oh, my dear prince!" The Countess flicked her head with much bravado that Adam secretly wished her towering updo would pull her dimwitted head off. "A royal at your age should concern more about your kingdom, reputation and who will be sharing your throne than your bed."

" _What_?" Adam couldn't resist the urge to exclaim.

"Calm down, Your Grace. You are royalty, you are entitled to have more than one mistress," came Countess Madeleine's patronizing counsel.

Her call that supposed to soothe Adam's nerve, instead, fueled his anger. His eyes narrowed and cheeks reddening with rage. His polite disposition shifted to a fiery fury. As much as he detested it, all these princely duty, nonsensical match-making was orchestrated to fit someone's political agenda and Adam, for the sake of them all, has to put on his princely face. Unfortunately, what came from his mouth was alarmingly different from the expression plastered across his face.

"What if I _refuse_? I would gladly renounce my post as the prince of the principality if necessary," he said it with such venom, putting a generous emphasis on each word.

Adam wasn't pleased with all of the meddling of his private life, especially not when his mind was still dancing across the empty ballroom with Belle in his arms.

It was Yvonne, with her sensitivity, finally stopped her distant relatives' harassment from invading Adam's personal space further.

"Oh forgive us, my nephew. We are just teasing…" she said with diplomacy, ushering the ladies to take a seat around the table. Yvonne waved her hand and one of the servants bent down to over a tray of drink and delicacies that quickly occupying those sniveling ladies' attention.

"Not a problem at all," Adam said under a scoff, nose flared and then making a very flourished and exaggerated bow before storming outside. He paced faster, unfortunately, his leg hated him for it. He was reminded that yesterday, they had spent the entire day scaling the depth of the city, checking on every single important landmark from the sunrise to sundown.

The rest of the evening, Adam was pretty much staying incognito, letting the pandemonium in his head to ease off. From time to time, he would appear to grab some drinks from the tray but otherwise kept his existence low profile to avoid being accosted by any of his overly patronizing family members.

* * *

Right after the ball, they retreated into the comfort of Adam's room.

Belle was there, just a few pace away from him, folding up his clothes and packed them up inside their suitcase, ready for the trip back to France. For a moment, he was completely lost at her unconscious grace. How could she made such a mundane activity appeared so….so….captivating.

"I think that was a splendid party," Belle declared. "And I think you've passed everyone expectation, my Prince."

Recognizing Adam wasn't about to respond, Belle went on. "Where were you anyway when I talked to Madame Yvonne de Fon...Fon..-"

"The lady with copious bosom who love to hug people compulsively?" Adam inquired. Belle smiled and shook her head at his usual sarcastic remark.

"Aha! Madame Yvonne de Fontainebleau Wolfeschlegelsteinhausenbergerdorff," Adam explained. "She is my mother's sister, the one that married to the German prince. A very nice lady, although her dramatic action and excessive hugging could be quite unnerving."

Belle presumed that's where get that Wolf-thingy. "I heard she is a keen artist."

"Yes, she would make a good acquaintance with your father," Adam said with a smirk. "Just don't ask her surname."

"Why nobility loves long, mouthful names?"

"Hmmm," Adam became thoughtful. "I guess it gives them… the sense of satisfaction, pride, pleasure even. It signified their inheritance, their bloodline. Like the famous Pablo Picasso…?"

"What's about him?" Belle looked positively intrigued.

"His full name is Pablo Diego José Francisco de Paula Juan Nepomuceno María de los Remedios Cipriano de la Santísima Trinidad Ruiz y Picasso," Adam grinned triumphantly watching an awestruck expression plastered across Belle's face. It wasn't easy to impress someone as clever as she was, and for that Adam patted himself on the back. "Thank my expensive education."

His obvious bragging earned a peal of her sweet laughter and Adam couldn't feel prouder.

"What do you think about my… _family_?" he asked, sounding more serious.

Done with her task, Belle joined Adam on his bed and sank on the pillow next to him."They are splendid, Adam. A little quirky, but I knew they meant well."

"Sure, you don't hear all of them, especially Madame Amerie de Albuquerque, she is lucky I no longer have fangs," Adam growled.

Belle straightened up from her seat to look at him. "Something that she said upsets you?"

 _Plenty!_ He wanted to say.

"No… nothing important," Adam feigned a nonchalance, not wanting Belle to worry over a pointless conversation.

"Just discussing the endless curse of political marriage." The countess' patronizing voice echoed like inside the cavity in his head. Adam masked the expression with a humorless chuckle.

"That is where everyone gets their long… meaningless… name," he added, reflecting on the empty debate earlier. Adam sighed pensively, life seemed to be much more predictable, simpler and more peaceful during the curse.

Belle's brows twisted at that. For a moment, Adam apprehensively speculating on what brimming inside of her witty-head, but he didn't anticipate what came next.

"Would I have a long name if I marry you?"

This time it wasn't the length of name that struck him, but hidden meaning implied. _Does she wish to marry me?_

* * *

"Good morning, Adam!"

A jubilant voice greeted Adam as soon as he arrived in the breakfast room. "How's your sleep?" his aunt asked. Before Adam could react, she hugged and kissed his cheek dramatically.

"Never been better, thank you for your hospitality to me and Belle," Adam matched her show of friendliness.

The mentioned of Belle's name seemed to strike a chord in his aunt's mind. She paused and reached for Adam's hand to express her sincerity. "Please forgive us yesterday, we got a little carried away. It wasn't a deliberate attempt to break you off your lovely fiance."

"That's okay, Aunt Yvonne," Adam breathed. He had forgotten their heated conversation last night the moment Belle asked whether she would have a long name if she _married_ him.

Yvonne sighed, touching Adam's cheek with her thumb like she used to do when he was a little boy."You truly have grown, Adam. It seemed like yesterday that your mother and I watched you and your cousin - Claudette and Clothilde - playing tea party down the hall, forcing the servant to try out the concoction that you made by grinding all sort of moving things you could find in the garden."

Those were Adam's fondest memories about his mother and her carefree laugh that echoed through the corridor as Adam told her about his prank. His blissful daze was interrupted when he saw the portrait of his father's regal stature hung against the wall on the hidden alcove of the breakfast room, but it still didn't escape his sight.

Adam managed to keep his wits about him, not wanting to cry and resent over a man who incapable of loving, unfailingly cruel and unfaithful in the end. Adam didn't want to regret all that he lost. He always knew his father looked at him as a political tool, a future investment to ensure his legacy to live on. The thought ignited a strange combination of anger and longing. Angry for his father's abandonment and lack of involvement in his life and longing for the fatherly love he was denied.

"Adam?" But before Yvonne questioned what bothering his mind, her eyes followed Adam's and she immediately knew the reason why.

Somehow, something inside encouraged Adam to at least share truth of the matter. With a heavy exhale, Adam replied, "It was just some unpleasant reminder of the past...that's all."

Without hesitation, Yvonne grasped his hand, a gesture of comfort. An old sentiment strung the pair together, some foreign connection from years past. She fixed her nephew with a kind, maternal affection Adam remembered seen of her in his childhood, "He can't hurt you anymore, Adam."

Placing his idle hand to encase hers, Adam nodded and smiled, "He stopped hurting me the day I met Belle."

Yvonne couldn't almost hold her regal composure. She had known Adam since he could barely feed himself and watch years transformed the child into a handsome young man. The last memory Yvonne had of Adam was of the blooming twenty something years old prince - always flagrantly pursued the attention of the fairer sex. However, there was hardly any depth or sincere affection - his pursuit always seemed to be lust-driven, superficial and temporal as opposed to anything substantial.

Belle was his first exception.

And the incident last night was a revelation to Yvonne that Belle wasn't just Adam's any other girlfriend. She had influenced him and transformed him in the most profound way. It was hardly surprising Adam regarded of the maiden highly, and Yvonne didn't even know the entire story. But one thing she was certain: it was love that had changed her nephew.

"I know you've changed Adam, and that is for the better. You've grown mature in your choices. I still remember those days when you came to visit with your mama, you're still dribbling all over your fine outfit until your shirt was soaked. Imagine _that_ ," Yvonne said fondly.

"Thank you for the reminder," Adam tried to fake a scoff of disapproval. Their conversation was interrupted when the glimpse of Belle came into view.

"Morning My Lady," Belle curtsied. "I was just about to inform Adam that our carriage is ready."

"Are you both couldn't join me for breakfast?"

"I'm afraid I have numerous meeting waiting for me back home, Aunty," explained Adam. "We have to reach the border before dark."

"Such a shame! Well, thank you for coming. I have enjoyed your company," she said, excusing herself to profusely hugged both Adam and Belle again.

Just as Belle made her move towards the door, Yvonne grabbed Adam's hand."I have something for you," she said in a low whisper. Yvonne instructed one of the chambermaids, and before long the servant returned with an elegant blue velvet box.

"Open it," Yvonne instructed Adam. Inside, Adam saw an elegant twist of gold with a large emerald sitting on its crest. He immediately recognized the masterpiece.

"Maman's wedding band?" he looked at his aunt, utterly bemused.

"I've kept it for her," Yvonne said whispering, flicking her sight on Belle for a split second, watching the girl stubbornly tried to help to load the luggage despite the servants' objection. "Now, that you've found _the one_ \- I think it's the right time for you to have it."

Adam paused for a long moment, not quite known how to react.

"A girl like her doesn't come every century, Adam," his aunt smiled gently. "You must be expedient before someone else does."

It's true. Adam had learned Belle was an extraordinary girl. Despite her undeniable beauty, she was hardly a feminine nonsense, in fact, quite the opposite. Belle was a straightforward and practical-minded woman who took pleasure and happiness in family, love, good conversation, a kept promise and a fond memory. At the end, those were _things_ that matter - a legacy that would live on past her grave. If his mother still alive, Adam was certain she would remark how lucky he was to find a woman who easily found happiness in pure, simple things.

Unwittingly, a bead of tears fell on ring's polished surface.

Adam used to shed lots of tears every time he looked at any memorabilia that reminded him of his mother….and he did the same thing here too, but the feelings of why it came, was different. People said it's ok to cry sometimes - even when you are a grown man, but for Adam, shedding tears while being happy had meant so much more.

" _Merci_ , Aunty. Wish me all the best," he said, leaning to hug her.

She reciprocated the gesture and kissed his cheek again. "Don't forget to invite me if you do."

* * *

Notes: Have you all seen the deleted scenes from BATB live action? I've just seen them on youtube. I've posted the link in my Tumblr 3431jessica for those who wanted to see. Also, there is quite a number of behind the scene video (of Dan in that lycra suit!) One of the deleted scene that touched my the most was the scene of Belle giving jam and bread to Agathe, which I am going to incorporate on my BATB fic 'A deal with the Enchantress'.

Sorry for the rambling, I was just way too excited after watching those videos!


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